


When We Learn To Fear The Dark

by The_8th_Deadly_Sin



Series: When We Learn To Fear The Dark [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Emotional Manipulation, Good Original Percival Graves, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Protective Theseus Scamander, Rape Aftermath, Sexual Abuse, Underage Rape/Non-con, Young Newt Scamander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_8th_Deadly_Sin/pseuds/The_8th_Deadly_Sin
Summary: An amalgam of scenes from Newt's early years at Hogwarts, where he faces no shortages of betrayals by those he thought he could trust, and abuse that he doesn't know how to cope with. Will his kindness keep his heart from breaking? Or will he succumb to the darkness inside?OrTheseus is overprotective, Albus is both cruel and manipulative (gee I wonder why), Newt is a little Cinnamon Roll, and Leta and Percival get sort of caught in the cross-fire.Read my story. Or don't, I'm not a beggar.





	1. There Goes My Baby

First on their list had been robes. Two of them, rather than three, for the fact that he would be given one of his brother's. Even if it would likely be three sizes too big. Most things were, as they tended to sit awkwardly on his narrow shoulders. He had to walk with a sort of hunch, simply to keep his coat from slipping off altogether. They had scarves and sweaters too. Though usually, first-years didn't get theirs, until they knew which house they were in. Though his brother had burst into laughter at the prospect of him being anything other than Hufflepuff. So they'd gotten the yellow scarves. 

Next, of course, was books. Loads of them, which his brother carried for him. He wasn't sure why he didn't just use Theseus' old ones. He had kept them in remarkable condition. As if he'd only just bought them. Though when he asked, Theseus shrugged and simply told him he ought to have his own. Newt didn't argue. He merely followed, sticking close to his brother, who could see above the crowd, and thus directed them through the busy streets. Eyes cast downward as he held Theseus' hand. Shifting nervously every time a passerby got too close, or leaning into his brother when foreign shoulders brushed his own. 

"You can have my old equipment. My cauldron and such. I won't be needing them anymore. Besides, it'll be a sort of memento for when I'm gone." Theseus told him. Foot striding forward, only to stop in midair, hand caught in place where Newt stood; staring at him timidly.

"Gone?" He whispered. Almost as if afraid of that word. Of its implications. 

Theseus turned around to face him. Using his wand to lift the books in hand into the sky above him. Enough so that he could clearly see his brother, without the strain of peering over hardback novels.

"Newt, you're going to Hogwarts. I won't be there with you." Theseus clarified, kneeling down before Newt who seemed paler. No longer looking at Theseus as he thumbed nervously at the hem of his sweater.

"I-I know that. But, you'll be home when I get back...won't you?" He questioned innocently. Brows drawn into this sort of incredibly pitiful expression. One of both fear and uncertainty. One that made Theseus' heart drop in his chest.

"Come on, Newt." He said, rising to his feet and offering his hand, "We still have to get your wand."

Newt noted that he hadn't replied. However, assumed that Theseus was trying to make him less reliant on the comforts of familiarity. Hogwarts was a place to make new friends. To form new bonds; never mind that Newt didn't know how to do either. He couldn't rely on Theseus, or his parents anymore. He'd have to do things on his own. A tough thought, and even scarier prospect to the young Scamander, who could hardly converse with others without annoying them. He was a magnet for trouble, he would come to find. And he had hoped that at the very least, Theseus would have been in his seventh year by the time Newt started his first. Therefore he'd be able to protect him, if only minutely from the bullies he was bound to have. But Theseus had graduated two years prior and was already moving on to bigger and better things.

"Will I be allowed to bring my creatures?" Newt asked hopefully. Knowing the answer, and yet, hoping Theseus would tell him otherwise.

"I'm afraid not, Newt. You're only allowed one pet at Hogwarts."

"Then, can I bring Jolly?" He then inquired. Bowing his head when Theseus sighed. Fearful that he was being a pest. That Theseus might leave in a huff at Newt's constant inquiries. Mood improving however, when Theseus let loose a light chuckle. One directed at him, which he realized after a moment. Peering up at the later, making brief contact with eyes that were almost completely shut due to the enormous smile on his face.

"No, Newt. You're only allowed an owl, a cat, or a toad. I'm afraid they wouldn't take kindly to a Donaire racing through the halls." He told him. Ruffling his hair lightly. Then combing through it absentmindedly with his finger tips. Pausing momentarily beyond the door of Ollivander's. Allowing Newt a moment to take in the various shelves with disorderly little boxes. Staring down at his little brother, who glanced up at him nervously.

"Ah!" A voice said from somewhere in the shop, "Another Scamander, eh Theseus?" 

"I'm afraid so Gervaise. This is my baby brother, Newt." Theseus replied. Ushering Newt forward toward the front desk which was far too high for him to see over. Glancing instead down the various lines of shelves, looking for who had spoken.

"Oh! How lovely!" The man exclaimed, appearing from behind them. Causing both to turn abruptly. There stood a rather slender, and well dressed man. Young, though still quite a bit older than Theseus. He had blue eyes. Kind eyes that put Newt at ease. Though, he still couldn't manage to meet them. 

"It's very nice to meet you Newt. I still remember when your brother got his wand. A very old, very powerful one. Mind you, it took nearly an entire day to find it. -- Let's hope we have more luck with you." He said with a kind smile. Walking past them and around his desk. Tossing on a pair of spectacles as he flipped through the pages of what sounded like a book. Though from where he stood, Newt couldn't be sure.

"Tell me a bit about yourself Newt. What are your interests?" He questioned, long fingers hooking round the top of the desk, where over his head soon appeared. Smiling down at the boy, who stiffened and averted his eyes. Leaning against Theseus' leg as he placed a hand on Newt's shoulder.

"Forgive my brother, he tends to be quite reserved." Theseus told him. 

"Excellent!" Gervaise proclaimed, falling back into his chair, flipping through the pages once more. "Anything else?"

"Well, erm…" Theseus began, caught off guard for a moment, "He has a rather...unique fascination with animals. Or, creatures rather, I suppose. Magical or otherwise. He's very, erm, compassionate...toward them. Empathetic."

"Yes, yes, perfect." The man hummed. Flipping back and forth, page after page until landing on the one he'd been searching for.

"Oh." He said, almost in disappointment. Peering down at the page which Theseus gazed at in wonder. Brows furrowing as the man mumbled under his breath. Reading the words written, though from Theseus' perspective they looked like absolute gibberish.

"Newton Artemis Fido Scamander." He stated bluntly. Lips pursed as he took a quick glance at Theseus who was all the more perplexed.

"Well it seems your wand has already been chosen." He told them. Ducking down under his desk as he attempted to sort through various boxes of wands. Still mumbling quietly as both brothers exchanged glances.

"What do you mean it's already been chosen?" Theseus questioned, startled as the man shot straight up, index finger extended toward the ceiling. Eyes wide and calculating. He nodded slowly and smacked his lips, making a small sound of triumph as he stood quickly and rushed down a nearby hall. Fingers tapping against his chin thoughtfully until catching sight of a rather old, decrepit box.

"This is one of the oldest wands I've got." He explained, blowing off the collected dust atop it, before removing the lid, revealing a sleek wooden wand which was rather plain looking. Simple, without any grand design.

"It's what we call an eer." He said. Offering it carefully to Newt, who took it hesitantly.

"A wand of unknown origin." He clarified. Smiling at Theseus who still wanted to know who had selected this wand for Newt. And why. Peering down at his brother who flicked his wrist lightly, which caused an abrupt change in demeanor. He had once toyed with Theseus' wand. Mostly when he wasn't looking, or seldomly, when Theseus had allowed it. He'd never liked his brother's wand. It was too heavy, too bulky. It wasn't light and easy to direct like this one. 

"I like it." Newt said quietly. Beaming up at Theseus who seemed apprehensive. Lips pulled into a suspicious purse as he turned his attention to Gervaise.

"How much for it?" He questioned.

"Well it's already been paid for." He replied.

"By whom." Theseus demanded, losing his temper now. Not that the man noticed, or cared.

"I'm not sure. All that was left are these initials; A.D." he told them, still smiling, despite the shifted tone of the room. Without a moment of hesitation, Theseus snatched the wand from Newt's hands; much to his dismay. Placing it back into its box without a word.

"Give us another." He ordered. Making no room for argument from the man who shrugged and placed the wand under his desk. Then searching for another.

Newt knew better then, than to ask why Theseus had refused that wand, but so very badly wanted to. Filled with both curiosity and disappointment. 

"Try this one." Gervaise offered. Handing Newt a wand that was very similar to Theseus'. Prompting him to test it out, which he did slowly. Jolting backwards into his brother as one of the lanterns above his desk shattered. 

"This'll do." Theseus told him. Tossing a few coins onto the desk. Then taking Newt's hand before Gervaise could protest, and leading him out. 

"Time for your pet." Theseus proclaimed. As if nothing had happened. As if Newt weren't still holding his new wand, dumbfounded and almost frightened by his brother's change of pace.

"Theseus…" He said smally, "Why did you-"

"Come on Newt. Don't lag behind." He insisted, yanking his brother forward, almost roughly, causing Newt to attempt releasing Theseus' hand. Something which only resulted in a tighter grip from his brother.

"Th-Theseus…"

"Look, darling we're almost there." He interjected. Refusing to look down at his brother who was having a hard time keeping up with Theseus' quickened steps.

"Theseus…"

"It doesn't matter why, Newt!" He shouted suddenly. Turning around and glaring down at the boy who shrunk considerably. Wincing at the ironclad grip Theseus had on his hand.

"Th-Theseus…"

"What?!" He barked. Like a rabid animal. Almost vicious, in a way. And where normally, aggressive creatures didn't bother him, seeing his brother like this was terrifying.

"It-it hurts." He whispered. Nodding toward their hands. Watching as Theseus' demeanor shifted instantly. Releasing Newt, awestricken and horrified by the slight bruising he had inflicted. Glancing around and collecting himself quietly once realizing the commotion he had caused. The lingering gazes and those who had stopped altogether to watch. Peering down at Newt almost tiredly. As if he were drained of any energy that might be used to redeem himself for his outburst.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. Listening painfully as Newt sniffled and nodded quickly. Unsure what more to say or do. He had never yelled at Newt before. Never hurt him. Not like that anyway. When he hadn't done anything wrong.

"C-c'mon Newt." He murmured after a moment, "Let's find you another creature."

  
  


*

  
  


Theseus left for his first job in the ministry after about a month into Newt's first year. He'd written him a heartfelt letter. About how he hoped Newt would make loads of friends, and find loads of creatures if not. He gave him advice, both good and bad. And he told him he would miss him. Something Newt had hesitated to read. No mention of the wand. Nor their debacle in Diagon Alley. Not that he had been expecting it. He just wished he knew what he'd done wrong. Especially when it made Theseus so angry. He had seen his brother lose his temper before, however he'd never been on the receiving end of his aggression.

Anyway, he knew Theseus wouldn't be back home until his third year. Which, by then, hopefully he will have forgotten about the whole thing. Though he doubted it. Strange behavior tended to linger in Newt's mind. He had the instinct to understand it. To sympathize with it. It was his blessing, and his curse. 

Newt didn't care for most of his classes. Though he found herbology useful, and astronomy intriguing, he far preferred sitting at the edge of the woods. Resting on the thin line between forbidden grounds, and the rest of the campus. There, he would surround himself with field mice, or various grass snakes. Leaning into the forest, hoping for something to catch his eye. And if nothing did, he would sketch the animals and creatures he'd seen and cared for at home. Or he'd jot down notes on whichever mouse caught his fancy. By the end of the year he had named them all, and could recognize even the smallest difference in their pelts. The length of their tails or whiskers. Anything he could recognize as a unique trait. He knew their personalities too. How they reacted when he brought food, or moved unexpectedly. Which ones liked to be touched, and which ones didn't. They kept him company, when no other students wanted to. But he didn't mind. In truth he liked being alone. Surrounded by animals with social norms and cues that he could understand. With expressions and sounds he could make sense of. He thought he was the only one in the world that knew of his little corner of the campus. Laughing shamelessly loud, talking boisterously, unbothered by the prospect of being caught. He knew no one would venture out that far. Least of all to pick on him. He acted as if no one was watching. Confident no one was. Though, in that regard, he was entirely misinformed. For there was a pair of eyes that very curiously watched him on all of his escapades. A blue pair of eyes, he had yet to be acquainted with.

"Hello everyone. Please take your seats." A man stated, walking briskly to the front of the room. Hands folded neatly behind his back. Gazing out across the classroom at students who quickly found their desks and seated themselves. Making a brief sweep of his pupils. All young, still, though growing fast in the face of their second year at Hogwarts. 

"My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore. I'll be your transfiguration teacher this year." He orated. Pacing on the slightly raised floor in front of them, "And I hope you've been studying. We've got a difficult year ahead."

A symphony of groans echoed around the room, eliciting a small smile from the man's lips. Revealing his wand quickly, held up straight beside his head.

"First." He told them, "Review from last year. I believe you learned simple transfiguration. Chalices into quills and such. Well, as much as I'd like to assess your skills, first, I'd like you all to attempt something of a more difficult level. I will turn one item on each student's desk into an animal. Your job, will be to change it back."

At that, they perked. Each excited to show off their talents and skills. Wands at the ready as he paced down each row. A rat here, a cat there, a weasel, a fox. Small animals they'd have no need to chase. Then watching as they all tried fruitlessly to complete the task at hand. Small hands vigorously waving their wands. Spells chanted over top of one another loudly. Chaos ensued. Something that caused him to purse his lips. Making quick assessments of each student and how he assumed they would behave for the rest of the year. Not very impressed in the least until glancing at the desk to his left, tucked away in the corner, where at a mess of red hair hung down in front of pale, freckled features. Three mice sat on his desk. Each staring up at him curiously. Not a single one afraid of him. He turned, intrigued, tapping his chin as the boy flicked his wand, changing another of his books into a mouse, which joined the merry trio.

"Scamander, I presume." He said quietly. Approaching the boy who quickly bowed his head and nodded. An almost pained expression on his face, as if expecting to be punished.

"You do understand, that the object of this little exercise, is to turn animate objects, inanimate. And not the other way around?" He questioned, kneeling beside Newt, who nodded and tilted his head.

"Yes, Professor. I just find that this...is...somewhat easier." He replied softly. Delicately. Words so gentle and smooth that they sailed beautifully over the heads of the gathered mice, and right into Albus' ears. What a lovely voice. Very kind, and sweet.

Albus smiled at that, gesturing to the small animals in an amused manor, "Mr. Scamander, transfiguration of an inanimate object into an animate object is a very difficult spell." He told him. Obviously impressed, though confused by the frown Newt quickly adorned.

"What's wrong?" He questioned. Leaning closer. Attempting to make out the boy's shielded expression. Wondering what it was he said.

"P-please don't call me Mr. Scamander. That's what everyone calls Theseus, now." He murmured. Glancing at the man hesitantly.

"Is Theseus your brother?" He questioned. Faint undertone of disdain causing him to over enunciate each syllable. Though Newt didn't seem to notice, instead, he nodded accordingly. Peering down at the hand which was then placed on his shoulder apprehensively.

"As you wish, Newton."

"Just Newt is fine." He clarified, causing Albus to smile lightly.

"Alright then, Newt."

*

Newt soon found that he liked Albus Dumbledore. He was kind, and gentle, and most importantly, he was patient. Traits he found most of his teachers lacked. He didn't mind putting in the extra time to help Newt or his other students. He wasn't bothered by after class, or after school questions, and he never said a cross word to any of them. And though he didn't like teachers in general, Newt found that Dumbledore was his favourite. After all, he had never felt the need to belittle him for his love of creatures, which everyone seemed to do, if for no other reason than cruelty.

"Runnin' off again Scamander? Have you got a girlfriend in those woods? Must be, 'cause everyone knows you ain't got one here." Hermon snickered. One of Newt's regular torturers. A beef-head, as Newt had come to think of him. A large boy with likely the smallest brain the world had ever seen. Newt didn't bother pointing out that Hermon didn't have a girlfriend either. In fact, most of them didn't. He assumed it was meant to be insulting based on the implication that he never  _ would _ have a girlfriend. But even then, Newt knew Hermon got all his insults from upperclassmen. Therefore, as second years, they didn't make much sense. But no one needed to think about it as much as he did to laugh anyway.

"What do you do in there anyway?" He questioned loudly, drawing in a crowd around the pair, "Frolic with the centaurs and fairies?"

A roarous burst of laughter exploded from the other students. Each egging the pair on, prompting Hermon to continue his litany of horrible insults, which Newt assumed, were supposed to hurt his feelings. Though, despite his indifference to the words, the laughter made him feel rather small. Bowing his head as he mumbled softly. Causing a hush to sweep across the courtyard.

"What'd you say Scamander?" Hermon barked. Narrowing his eyes in a supposedly menacing way. Prompting a quick glance from Newt, who cleared his throat.

"I said...if you're going to insult me, the least you could do is makes sense." He said quietly. Voice gradually raising in volume as he spoke. A small chorus of laughter causing Hermon's expression to harden.

"Well…"

"Or are words all you've got?" Newt continued, fueled by the acceptance the crowd offered, "You know, strong men don't make idle threats. And it's the fools that think big words make strong men."

Another chorus of laughter, despite the fact that most of them didn't know what he'd said.

"I don't even know what that means." Hermon tried, attempting to make Newt sound stupid. To regain control of their peers.

"Of course you don't. I'd be surprised if there was a brain in that head of yours at all." Newt fired back.

At that, Hermon lost his temper. Raising his wand, which caused a hush to ensue across the courtyard. Everyone stood silent. It was a cause for expulsion to raise your wand at another student. Unless of course, it were during class. Hermon had just made a colossal move. One Newt responded to rather quickly.

"Expelliarmus!" He said loudly, disarming his adversary, who watched as his wand flew out into the crowd.

"Slow too…" Newt added with a giggle. Nervous smile painted across his features. Realizing just how foolish he'd been to engage Hermon at all when the boy ran at him, full speed, and tackled him to the ground. Straddling his waist as he punched ruthlessly at Newt's head. Catching him once in the jaw, before he was able to get his hands up over his head. Taking the brunt of the damage with his forearms.

"What is this!" A voice suddenly boomed. Dumbledore's, Newt knew. Hands lowering for a moment as everyone turned to face the man. All but Hermon, who didn't seem to care, landing one final punch directly into Newt's nose, knocking him out cold. 

*

He awoke the next day groggily. Shifting uncomfortably in an infirmary bed, until able to open his eyes. Greeted by a pounding headache, which was intensified by the light above. A light which quickly distinguished. Flying across the room, only to be absorbed by an object which had been held in a hand belonging to none other than Albus Dumbeldore, who stood quite a ways away.

"I had just come to check on you." He stated. Slowly approaching the boy who glanced down at himself. Around the room. Wondering where he was for a moment, and how he had gotten there, before it all came rushing back to him. Causing him to fall back into the pillow behind him exhaustedly. He shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn't have taken Theseus' advice. Having friends, or people that liked him just wasn't worth the trouble. That's why he had his beasts.

"I'm told you used magic on that boy." Albus said lowly. Eyebrow raised at Newt who nodded. Seeing no point in explaining the semantics of how or why. He shouldn't have done it. That's all that mattered.

"In self-defence?" He questioned, to which Newt responded with a nod. Something that seemed to relieve a great load off the man, who sighed deeply and sat on the bed beside him.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly. Hand reaching out hesitantly to brush back Newt's hair. Unoffended as the boy shied away. Instead, examining the bruised nose and busted lip he bore. Seemingly angry. Fuming in a way that Newt had never seen. Hesitant to acknowledge the man for several minutes, until he spoke again. Shaking his head as if being lifted from a daze.

"Given this is your first offence, the headmaster has decided not to punish you. Though, one hundred points have been taken from Hufflepuff." Albus said that last bit through his teeth. As if the mere prospect were ridiculous. How did points make much of a difference, when a student had been assaulted. "Hermon, on the other hand has been expelled."

"Expelled?" Newt questioned softly. Dragging himself up the length of the bed slowly. Leaning against the headboard. "I-I thought he would be suspended...why did...why was he Expelled?"

At that, Albus furrowed his brows. Mouth gaping slightly, as if he'd stopped mid sentence, and had forgotten what he was going to say. Confused, it seemed, at Newt's concern.

"This was his third offence and…" he paused, pursing his lips as Newt urged him on.

"And?" He questioned.

"And...he hurt you, Newt. Doesn't that bother you?" 

There was a long silence. One in which Newt shook his head. Utterly appalled at the thought of another student being expelled for his sake. Even if Hermon had started it, Newt had no doubt he had continued for the same reason Newt had. He just wanted to be accepted. To make friends. How could they expel him simply for ignorance? For the human instinct of social bond?

"You can't expel him, please Professor, please...tell them it was my fault. I-I egged him on." Newt tried, pleading eyes burning into Albus' irises, which were riddled with confusion. 

"Newt, I have at least a dozen students that would tell me otherwise. Now...I've never been one to vote in favour of expulsion, but...then again I've never seen another student…" he paused, thinking of the right words, "Hurt someone, like Hermon hurt you."

Newt sulked quietly. Turning slightly away from Dumbledore, though enough for him to notice. Sliding back down under the sheets where he rested for a moment. Deep in thought. Wondering what he could do. Or if he should do anything at all. Would he only make things worse? 

"Everyone's going home tomorrow." Albus said suddenly, snapping him from thought, "I'll see what I can do over the break."

Newt smiled softly, nodding to him, before sitting up and throwing off the covers. Dipping his toes down into a pair of slippers. Standing alongside Albus who stared down at him thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Professor." He said sincerely.

*

His mother came to the train station to pick him up. Rushing and muttering about everything she had to do before the party. A welcome home of sorts. More for Theseus than it was for Newt, but they said that it was for both of them. Everyone knew that wasn't true. She was so busy and rushing about that she didn't even ask about his face until they'd gotten home. Glancing at him, startled, before questioning abruptly, "Do you have anything to cover that with?" 

When he shook his head, she shrugged and continued into the house, ordering him to clean his room, as well as Theseus', even if each needed little more than a light dusting. When he was finished, she told him to feed and stable the hippogriffs, something he was more than excited to do. Slipping away after his final task, into the woods beyond. She would call for him in an hour or so. Only once. And if he didn't reply, she'd wave him off and keep working, as she tended to do. Newt had always been an oddball. And though she'd never approved of him, and made every comment she could at his expense, she had never tried to stop him. Nor had his father, but he doubted his father even knew about his escapades. Nor likely what the colour of Newt's eyes were. Not that, that bothered him. He couldn't care less about what his family thought about him. This, apparent, shame to purebreds. A word which meant nothing to him. 

In his travels, he stumbled upon a nest of Jollups. Small, dragon-like creatures, which were actually a species of bird. Sharp talons and teeth were their defining traits, though they only bore them when they were frightened. Newt knew that very well. Pity, laden in his eyes as he stared down at the small creatures. So misunderstood. Seen as threatening monsters, though from this angle, they were gentle, and almost incapable of harm. He'd met many along the course of his life. Most, in these very woods. None had ever hurt him, at least, not with the intention to. Theseus never liked Jollups. He thought they were right little abominations. Mostly for the fact that one had scraped Newt's arm when he was a child, and in his ham-fisted attempt at aiding him, he dropped a rock the size of a football on it's head. Killing it before Newt had a chance to help it. Seeing how easily intentions could be misconstrued to make something innocent, into something guilty.

This nest belonged to Georgia. One of the older Jollups Newt had come to know. They had a lifespan of just over five years. And he had known her for four now. In light of this familiarity, when she returned to the nest, she allowed Newt to examine the babies, making sure they were healthy. He had once saved their mother from a Jollup trap. One his father had crudely constructed. She had attacked him briefly, in turn, but when she realized his intention was not to harm her, she began seeking him out during his forrest adventures. Following him, and eventually perching on his shoulder from time to time. As did a number of his companions. This slow expression of trust and friendship. That was his favourite part. Knowing he'd shown himself to be a non- threatening figure. 

He quickly sketched out each baby. Mumbling names under his breath until Georgia squacked her approval. Then sitting slumped against a tree, sketching her a fourth time, as he tended to do each year. Detailing the gradual change and progression of age. Her scales and feathers were actually brighter now than they had been when he'd first met her. A fact which tended to be the opposite. Unique to Jollups he supposed. 

Next he ventured out to the small pond which a number of creatures used as a watering hole. There, he documented old friends, and new friends alike. So lost in his own little world, where this was his life, and his journal was all there was that existed, that when Theseus called him, he didn't hear it for several minutes. Instead, jolting when a shadow stretched out beside him. Bowing his head instinctively, as his brother approached.

"There you are, darling." Theseus said. Taking in a deep breath as he admired the way the sun lit up every strand of Newt's red hair. Like fire blazing through each curl. Extending his hand for Newt to take. Waiting patiently as his brother packed up his supplies and hesitantly slipped his fingers into Theseus' palm. Unaware of how anxiously Theseus was waiting to see his face. His ever iconic green eyes which were mottled with flecks of gold. Hiding a deeper blue beneath the swampy colour. The abundant and variously sized freckles which dotted his face into a million constellations. And even if Theseus stared for a thousand years, he'd never be able to find them all. Most of all, however he wanted to see his lips. They way they crinkled when he was embarrassed, or the way they turned up just so when he smiled. Most memorably, the shape that took them over when they said his name.

"You make any friends?" He questioned, brushing some hair behind Newt's ear. Tilting his head, brows slightly furrowed at the way Newt held himself. Allowing his face to be hidden by a menagerie of curls.

"Well, there was a Warbadeir at the pond today." He murmured, voice softer than Theseus remembered it.

"I meant at Hogwarts, luv." He clarified. Smiling down at his brother, who instantly began to blush. Pale skin darkening into a light pink as he whispered out a small "oh." Followed by the shaking of his head. 

"Well at least you've got your creatures." Theseus supplied, patting down on Newt's shoulder. Ushering him through the woods. Discreetly trying to catch a glimpse of that enigmatic face which eluded him. Continuing to ask dull questions. Like how his year had been. Which teacher he hated the most. Typical small talk that he knew Newt hated. Though nothing elicited even the smallest glance. It was a well known fact that Newt was averse to eye contact, but he'd never been this reserved. He contemplated briefly that perhaps he hadn't left on the best terms. That whole wand debacle still nipping at him from the back of his mind. Causing a brief pause in conversation. Abrupt and out of character enough for Newt to peer at him for only a moment. Nervous as he instantly snapped his head back into place. And though suspicious, Theseus didn't press. It had been so long since last he'd seen Newt. He didn't want to lose him again. Not over something that might have been nothing at all. 

"Mum's friends are anxious to meet us." Theseus said. Changing the subject in his own mind. Wrapping his arm around Newt who scoffed softly.

"You mean Mum's friends are anxious to meet you." Newt corrected. Moving like a rag doll as Theseus jostled him. Leaning down beside his ear to whisper "Good. I want you all to myself." Placing a small kiss on the boy's cheek and chuckling as he pulled away. Not noticing how Newt had squeezed his eyes shut and flinched at the contact. Not because he was afraid of Theseus, rather, he was afraid of how he would react to what Herman had done to him. Theseus had a tendency to be overprotective. One such example being the Jollup he had so proudly murdered in Newt's name. 

"Look...just, pop a smile and act friendly. I'll do the rest, alright?" He said. Rubbing Newt's shoulder as he nodded.

"I'd prefer to stay in my room." He murmured. Licking hesitantly at his lip. Coppery tinge tainting his mouth. 

"I know you would, Newt, but I haven't seen you in years. And I've not got long to stay. I want to spend every minute I can with you. Is that alright?" He questioned. Heart fluttering in a stale panic as Newt walked in silence. No nod of affirmation. No small words of acceptance. He just kept walking. Secretly dreading this week. Knowing he wouldn't be able to hide his face forever.

"Newt?" He questioned, pausing for a moment, allowing the younger Scamander to slip out from under his arm. Hurt, and almost disgusted with himself. Had he done something wrong? Had Newt hung on to the Diagon Alley incident all this time? His heart pounded. Eyes widening as Newt paused. 

"Yes, it's alright." He murmured, glancing back quickly. Quickly enough for his face to be a blur to Theseus, who breathed a deep sigh of relief. Advancing and smiling widely down at Newt, who remained silent until they'd reached the house.

"Theseus I've got to...I've got to unpack. I'll be down later." He said. Rushing quickly up the stairs and into his room. Leaving Theseus to stare longingly after him. Drifting slowly into the kitchen where he helped their Mother prepare the appetizers. 

Once in his room, Newt paced anxiously. Wondering what he could do. Even if he had means of covering his lip, the wound would easily protrude enough to be noticed. Especially by Theseus' observant eye. He panicked minutely. What if their mother told him? What if she casually mentioned how unfortunate it was that Newt's face didn't look pleasant enough for the party. He didn't know what he would say if she did. What he'd say in general, once Theseus found out. Theseus had the annoying habit of killing the things that caused Newt any sort of harm. 

"What do I do Jolly?" He whispered. Speaking now to the Donaire on his nightstand. A shapeshifting cat like creature that could teleport short distances. Appearing then at his feet, rubbing her head against his ankle. Walking alongside him as he thought desperately. Perhaps he could cast a charm. Trick everyone into thinking he looked normal. Though he didn't know many spells. Silently cursing himself for not having paid attention in his classes. 

He was cornered. Unsure what to do. Sitting on his bed desperately clinging to one of his pillows. Gazing sadly at Jolly who curled up on his chest. "I don't want to go down there." He murmured, scratching skillfully between her ear and neck. The place their mother's nuzzle them at birth. A comforting feeling.

He found it incredible. That such a small gesture, a touch could provide some form of release from stress. He wished he had something like that. Anything that would make him feel...secure. He had his animals, of course. His beloved creatures. Though, without them, he felt lost. Alien. Even without this secret, this fear of Theseus' reaction, he'd be just as terrified to walk down those steps. 

"Newt!" Theseus called. Treading up the stairs skillfully. The loud thump from his boots causing Newt to flinch occasionally. He glanced sideways at the clock on the wall beside him. Hours had passed, and his bags were still packed. He sat upright quickly. Apologizing softly to Jolly, whom he startled as he flicked his wand. In expert time, his clothes found their place in his closet and drawers. Laying back down the instant Theseus opened the door. Pretending to have fallen asleep, otherwise Theseus would have never forgiven him for not coming down sooner. 

"Newt, luv?" He murmured softly. So softly in fact, that Newt hardly heard him. Rather, curling up into the sheets subtly. Shoulders shrugged together nervously as Theseus approached. Gazing down at his brother, whose face was pressed down into the pillow beneath. Pursing his lips in disappointment. Wondering if Newt was angry with him. Or, Merlin forbid it,  _ scared  _ of him. 

He sat down slowly beside his brother. Instinctively running a hand through that mess of red hair. Fingers carding against his scalp. Head tilted as he admired the way Newt's hip jutted just so, with the angle of his body strewn in the way it was. Hand hesitantly curling around the boy's waist. Admiring how it felt, rested there for a moment, before leaning over Newt and kissing the curve of his jaw.

"Wake up Newt." He whispered. Nuzzling into the younger's neck, eliciting a small shiver from his brother. Giggling softly at Newt's moan of discomfort.

"Come on brother, half of the guest list has already arrived. Mum will be royally peeved if you're not there." He said. Brushing a loose curl behind Newt's ear. Then patting his shoulder and standing.

"I'll be down in a moment." Newt told him. Quiet and reserved, "I've got to change."

Theseus nodded. Hesitating for a moment. Newt had never minded changing in front of him before. Especially when it came to talking about things he didn't like. For example, parties that were framed as innocent get together, even when they were a well disguised form of pretension. Though, he was getting older. And perhaps he had become accustomed to privacy at Hogwarts. Either way, he left without argument. Waiting at the bottom of the stairs for several minutes, until Newt emerged beside him, brandishing one of the new suits their father had given him. It was black. A colour Newt rather loathed wearing. He prefered blue or beige suits. Anything but such a drab and dreary colour. It seemed...lifeless.

"First thing tomorrow, we'll go out and I'll get you a blue one." Theseus told him. Recognizing the rather effortless posture that spelled out reluctance. Waiting for Newt to perk up, or brighten at the thought of going out into the muggle world with Theseus. Though, he didn't, and Theseus' anxiety returned.

"I'm still rather tired." Newt said sheepishly, "I'd quite like to sit down. If that's alright."

Theseus nodded graciously, leading him into the lounge, where Newt parked himself for the rest of the night. Anxiously avoiding conversation with the simple phrase, "I don't feel so well." And all the while, Theseus watched him like a hawk. Glaring at anyone who lingered around him, when obviously, he was unwell. Once or twice scaring off the occasional nosey guest, though secretly wondering what it was that was wrong with Newt. And if it had something to do with him.

It wasn't until dinner that things shifted. When normally, their Mother would sit on one end of the table, with their father on the other, Newt sat in his father's place, as he was absent on rather pressing business. Theseus, in turn, sat further than he'd have liked from his younger brother. Two or three seats down to his left. Still adamant in his assessment of Newt's movements. His demeanor. He was acting far more skittish than normal.

"Newt, would you like to give a toast?" His mother questioned. Hopeful tone in her voice that perhaps he could be of some use. When he did nothing but stammer quietly, Theseus pushed out his chair and stood.

"I'd be more than happy to, Mum." He announced. Winking as Newt, who narrowly saw it, and smiled. Theseus was always defending him. Sticking up for him in conversation when he stuttered. Taking difficult questions, or inquiries he had no desire to answer. It was a reoccuring theme for the pair, for Theseus to make sure Newt never felt uncomfortable or frightened.

He admired that about Theseus. It was that very same kind hearted nature, which made him a Hufflepuff, where under any other circumstance, Newt could easily see him as a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. As for himself, he couldn't have ever been anything but a Hufflepuff. He was too kind for his own good.

"I said, can you pass the potatoes." The man to his right said suddenly. Snapping him from thought, and distracting him enough to glance up dumbfounded. As if he'd forgotten where he was. Ducking down instinctively, as he reached for the bowl beside him. Peering up slowly at Theseus, who hadn't yet seen.

"Oh my, what happened there?" The man inquired. Leaning toward Newt. An action which instantly caught Theseus' eye. Narrowing his gaze at the man who waited patiently for a response.

"Looked painful." The woman beside him added. Each expressing their concern at the wrong time entirely. Further urging Theseus to examine the situation. Almost frantic in his effort to discover what exactly, they were talking about.

"Oh, it...it's nothing." Newt murmured. Nudged by the man who would have none of it.

"I know a fight when I see one. How'd the other boy look?" He questioned. Almost playfully. Words causing an instant change in Theseus as he stopped eating altogether. Now staring intently at the mess of hair shielding his brother's face. Knowing Newt could see him through the tangled strands. Daring him not to look up. To meet his eye.

Newt swallowed. Staring down at his plate. Breathing quickly and quietly. Glancing at the man beside him with a small, polite smile.

"N-no better." He lied. Hesitantly turning to look at Theseus, who dropped his fork noisily against his plate, causing a few sideways glances. But dinner resumed.

At first, he was devastated. Unsure how it was possible for one to be so angry, that they could find it in themselves to hurt Newt. He was so loving, so gentle, so forgiving. His only flaw was being too loving and gentle and forgiving. An excess of kindness. Not a lack of it. Though, gradually that devastation became irritation. Newt had lied to him. Not in words, exactly, but by omission. Why hadn't he told Theseus? Why had he allowed his brother to torment himself with worry, wondering what he had done to upset the youngest Scamander. Bouncing back and forth between his protective nature, and possessive arrogance. Noone hurt Newt and got away with it. Not even their own father, whom Theseus had once challenged, after an irritatingly condescending spiel about Newt's wasted potential.

Whoever it was that did this, would pay.


	2. Oh My, How Times Have Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rise and fall of Newt's faith in a couple people. Poor Newt. Why am I...I mean, the world, so cruel?

"Theseus...it's nothing." He tried. Pushing gently at the hands he soon found on either side of his face. Blushing at the eyes that burned into him. Sweeping back and forth between his bruised nose and cracked lips.

"Nothing?" He breathed out incredulously. Vehement irritation in his voice. Newt didn't think very highly of himself if this, this assault, was nothing. But then again, he also knew that no one could ever love Newt like he did. Not even Newt himself.

He made a soft whimpering sound. As if admitting defeat. Standing pitifully still as Theseus examined him. Pained at the mere thought of Newt harmed. Seeing it...was on a whole other level for Theseus. Unsure exactly what to do. He wanted to  _ kill _ whoever had this. He wanted to kill them in such a way, in fact, that he'd have ended up in Azkaban for sure. But he couldn't do that. He knew it. Killing creatures that harmed Newt was different. No one cared about another beast gone. But a person? Unless it were a particularly lonely muggle, he'd practically make front page headlines.

"Promise me, that this will  _ never _ happen again." Theseus said lowly. Wanting to know, no,  _ needing _ to know that the danger had passed. The threat was gone. Otherwise Theseus would kill them. Consequences be damned.

Newt nodded quickly. Shying from Theseus' hands. From the topic in general. Wondering just how furious Theseus would be if ever he knew of Newt's intention to get his expulsion revoked. Theseus had never hit him. He'd never even had that unforgiving gleam in his eye, which accompanied a slap or punch. At least not towards Newt, but he still found himself cautiously wondering, if Theseus would be so angry at him, that he'd hurt him.

"Good." Theseus forced out. Rage demanding he pry. That he make Newt tell him every single detail. That he demand the offender's name. But he didn't. Rather, breathing out slowly as he kissed Newt's forehead. Pulling him into an overprotective embrace. One that was so tight, and full of desperation, that Newt almost couldn't breath. As far as Theseus was concerned, Newt could never be close enough. Unless the older boy were capable of opening up his ribcage, to allow the younger a place beside his heart, he wasn't certain he'd ever feel quite satisfied with their distance. 

"I love you, Newt." He whispered. Almost afraid of how much he meant those words. How much emotion he hid behind them.

"I know." Came Newt's muffled reply.

Theseus almost want to laugh. Did he? Could he? Was there any possible way for him to comprehend just how  _ much _ Theseus loved him? Theseus would do anything for Newt. Quite literally anything. He'd quit his job, something he had been preparing for almost all his life. He'd burn down the ministry, or kill the prime minister, or murder any living thing in existence, for Newt. Even if he knew his brother was too soft...too sweet to demand such things. Still, he knew that he would do them. And more, if he could. Seeing Newt like this  _ killed _ him. Knowing that if he exacted vengeance, Newt would hate him.

"Sleep with me tonight, ok?" Theseus said. Head bowed down, nuzzled into Newt's neck. Breath puffing against pale skin as he spoke. "I'd feel better if I knew you were safe."

He breathed an almost exasperating sigh of relief when Newt nodded. Unsure of what else he could do. What Theseus wanted, Theseus got. Sooner or later. 

"Get dressed then, I'll wait up for you." Theseus told him, pulling away from their embrace, only to peer down as exhausted green eyes. An amalgamation of emotions blatantly strewn across his features. 

It killed him to leave the room. To strip down to his pants and await his younger brother. Tucked beneath the sheets for several painstakingly long minutes, before Newt entered, draped head to toe in his cotton pajamas. Emerging from the door quietly. Closing it behind him as he wandered slowly to Theseus' bed. Back to his old brother as he laid facing the adjacent wall. 

"Newt…" Theseus murmured, causing a quick glance over the younger boy's shoulder. Peering into open arms for several moments, until turning over. Allowing Theseus to drag him across the mattress. Closer. Encapsulating him in warmth and security. Kissing the boy's cheek and forehead gingerly, before lying back down, exhaling deeply with an endless sense of pride. Or perhaps satisfaction. Knowing Newt was there with him.

"Goodnight luv." He whispered. Holding tight to Newt who nuzzled closer in the frigid night air drifting in from Theseus' window.

"Goodnight Theseus." Newt replied.

  
  


*

  
  


By the time Newt had returned to Hogwarts, he had, had no shortage of kisses and hugs from Theseus, who demanded to be as near as he could to his brother. Following Newt on his little adventures, even if he knew Theseus couldn't stand them. It was almost flattering. At least, it would have been, had it not been so frightening. Theseus had never been so clingy before. He'd never been so close to snapping at any moment in Newt's name. 

In any case, he was happy to return. Relieved in a way. More so, especially when he caught Hermon roaming the halls in his periphery. Professor Dumbledore had followed through. Something Newt felt the need to thank him for, though he wasn't quite sure what he would say. He had been rather perturbed by Newt's request. Therefore, he decided to remain rather tight lipped about the whole debacle. Rather, attending class as he normally did. Slipping away as he normally did. Watched unknowingly by striking blue eyes, as they normally did. 

His second year passed without much more commotion. And then it was into his third. Identical to the past two years, apart from one detrimental fact. Theseus had joined the war. Newt couldn't possibly fathom why. Utterly devastated by the news when Theseus wrote him. Responding with his shock, and albeit reluctant support. Theseus always had been the more aggressive of the two. More prepared to conduct violence. Newt couldn't even imagine participating in a war. He'd have fought tooth and nail just to get out of it. To prevent himself from harming another living thing. Almost disturbed at the thought that Theseus didn't mind killing other men. Even if it was for the greater good.

It was also during this year, that Dumbledore became more involved in his life. Tutoring him from time to time, as he tended to fall behind. Allowing him the luxury of bringing his creatures to study sessions. Explaining every aspect about them in explicit detail, elated that Dumbledore was both intrigued and furthermore impressed by Newt's knowledge. The first person, really, to ever provide some form of approval. A fact which made Newt want to be around him all the more. Sharing his journal at one point, asking shyly what Dumbledore thought about it. When he told Newt it was incredible, he found an inspiration he had never felt before. Skipping class altogether at times to visit his beasts. Adventures that Dumbledore eventually came to excuse. Though, he did express his distaste for Newt's carelessness. 

Albus Dumbledore was the first person Newt had ever met, that didn't find him odd. That, in fact, found him endearing. It made him happy in a way he had never felt before. So at first, he didn't notice the way that Albus looked at him from time to time. Nor how when he touched Newt's shoulder, his hand tended to linger a bit longer than it should have. It didn't even occur to him that it was strange, being the only student Albus tutored. And he never realized the gradual shift in seating. When at first Dumbledore had sat at his desk, while Newt studied. Then in front of him. Then beside him. Arm wrapped over his shoulder as he explained what text Newt couldn't decipher on his own. And though all these things seemed harmless, it was his fourth year that things began to change.

"Newt, I thought you said you'd study with me, this time." Leta whined. Glancing suspiciously at Dumbledore, who stood in the doorway of his classroom. Seeing his students out as the pair slowly approached. She had never liked him. Not when she had, had him her first, nor her second year, and especially not now. Though Newt chalked her distaste up to a rather childish form of jealousy. 

"Tomorrow, Leta. I'm sorry, but I already promised Albus…"

"Albus." She interjected. Extending her arm before him, causing both to halt. Momentarily peering at one another. Equally perplexed.

"Y-yes. He said I should call him that." Newt said innocently. Thumbing nervously at his pocket as Leta narrowed her eyes.

"Newt don't you think it's strange that Professor Dumbledore spends so much time with you. And...and that he lets you call him by his first name?" She questioned, brows drawn in, sneer melted across her face. She was jealous. That was all. At least, that's all Newt was willing to hear.

"Is it strange because it's unusual, or is it strange because I don't spend as much time with  _ you _ ?" Newt rebutted. Biting his tongue and cursing himself when Leta's features contorted into something like disbelief. As if he had the audacity to challenge her concern. 

She scoffed loudly and walked away, and for a moment Newt thought he ought to run after her, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Leta Lestrange is indeed a unique character." He said, smiling down at Newt who glanced up with worried eyes. Afraid that he'd done something wrong. "Don't worry...She'll be alright."

With that, Albus led him slowly into the classroom. Closing the door behind them. Erasing the chalkboard with one hand in his pocket as Newt placed his things across his desk. Watching Dumbledore with an addorant gaze. One full of hope and trust and idolization. Dipping his quill in ink. Ready to absorb the knowledge Albus would soon supply. Confused, however, when the man wandered toward the window. Gazing out of it silently as Newt waited. Staring at his teacher for several minutes, until Albus glanced at him, as if he'd forgotten he was there.

"Come here, Newt." He said. Gesturing for the boy to join him, which, after a moment, he did. Sitting on the windowsill across from Albus, who sat just the same. 

"What do you see when you look out this window?" He asked. Tilting his head inquisitively as Newt peered beyond. Knowing there was some lesson to be learned here. No matter how cryptic.

"Well, I see quite a lot of grass." He jested nervously. Unsure exactly what it was he was meant to notice. Pausing to risk a glance at Albus whose eyes hadn't shifted from him. Small smile curling on the man's lips as he explained.

"I see a boy of, rather average height. Red haired, green eyed. He's got, loads of freckles, and a smile he hardly ever uses." Albus told him.

It took a moment for Newt to realize that Dumbledore was referring to him. Blushing softly for a moment as his brows furrowed curiously.

"But how can you see me outside the window, when I'm right here?" He questioned incredulously. Smiling smally, thinking that there was some sort of game afoot. 

Albus nodded down toward the ground. Gesturing out the window, where Newt looked once more. Unsure as to what he was missing. Intent on answering this riddle. Lost for several minutes, until a small patch of grass caught his eye. His spot. Rather, where he used to sit with his creatures. Now, he tended to spend time with Leta. Only returning there occasionally.

"She's changing you, you know." Albus said. Serious undertone in his voice causing Newt's smile to fade. Unsure what exactly he meant.

"I've seen how she treats you." He told him. Shaking his head as if he disapproved. Clicking his tongue in dismay.

Newt furrowed his brows. Perplexed, though trusting of his mentor enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, "Well, she's my friend." He countered. Unsure how to respond to the sympathetic expression the man gave him. As if he were missing some crucial part of the equation.

"Do friends gossip about one another?" He questioned. Not allowing Newt enough time to respond before continuing, "Do friends try to change one another? For their own benefit?"

Newt shook his head slowly, though he wasn't quite certain, as to what Albus was referring.

"W-what do you mean?" He asked. Fearful now of what the man might say. Shifting nervously where he sat as the man sighed deeply. As if pitying Newt and his ignorance.

"Newt...do you think she really cares? About you? About your creatures?"

The question startled him. He hadn't at all been expecting it. Taken aback as he stammered quietly. Unsure how to respond.

"Well…"

"Oh you poor soul. I thought perhaps you were trying to help her. To change her. I now see she's got her claws far deeper than I thought."

At that, Newt found himself almost offended. Certainly, he hadn't know Leta that long. She had only recently showed an interest in him. Though, he didn't see anything wrong with that, knowing she didn't have any friends to be heard of. She was an outcast, just like him.

"If she doesn't care...why would she talk to me-"

"Because she knows she can manipulate you." He said quickly. Almost as if impatient. Startling Newt, who cast his gaze to the floor. 

Was it true? Was Leta simply using him? Why else would she get so angry or reluctant when he met with Albus. She knew that he knew her true nature. She was jealous that Newt trusted Dumbledore, and not her.

"But…"

"Newt." Albus said, resting his hand on the boy's knee. Compassion in his eyes as he leaned toward his pupil. "I know it's difficult to accept. And it hurts me to tell you this, but I care about you." Hand subtly drifting up Newt's thigh. Catching his attention about midway from his hip. He peered down at it, conflicted. Hopping back and forth between memories with Leta, and Albus. Not knowing who to trust. 

"And I, would never lie to you." Albus told him. With such sincerity in his eyes that Newt had to believe him. Wanting so badly to believe that he was good. 

From then on, he spent less and less time with Leta. Slowly distancing himself from her, more frequently finding himself in Dumbledore's class. Though now he didn't have the energy to talk about his creatures, too distraught at the loss of his supposed friend. And so instead they worked. 

At first, Newt was too disheartened, too in his own head to notice that now, whenever Albus put an arm around him, it no longer rested on his shoulder, but rather his waist. And as he spoke, he'd rub Newt's thigh under the table. Something Newt wasn't so foolish as to think was normal. Acceptable. He knew Albus wasn't supposed to do that. That he shouldn't, do that. But he couldn't find the words to challenge him. Albus was really the only person he trusted. Now that he didn't have Leta, and Theseus was halfway across the world. Though in honesty, he wasn't all that sure that he trusted Theseus anymore. After all, whenever he mentioned him and his behavior to Albus, all he ever said was that Theseus wasn't a good brother. That he possessive, and cruel in some ways. Prone to violence and unphased by who he hurt. And because Newt didn't know what else to do, he listened. And he didn't say anything when Albus touched him. He didn't want to lose him too.

  
  


*

  
  


Theseus had been staring down at him for over an hour. Lost in his soft features, and gentle breaths. Fingertips dancing slowly across his pale thigh. Gradually shifting up onto his shoulder, where over Theseus peeked at the small hands which were bunched up beside his head. Eyes tracing the lovely body which was curled up before him. Faint sunlight from the window pouring in, down over both of them. After a moment, he stirred. Soft moan escaping him as his eyes fluttered gently open, only to shut once more. Theseus drew circles of his bicep. Small and precise. He looked so beautiful in his sleep. So serene. Carless. Utterly divine. Theseus placed an almost hesitant kiss to his shoulder. Eyes closing with a calm sense of euphoria. This was what he craved. This was what he yearned for. Day in, and day out. All he wanted…

Was Newt.

"Wake up Scamander." A voice called, awakening him for the bittersweet hope of love. Of a togetherness he knew was morally wrong. Perhaps ethically demented. But he couldn't find it in himself to care. 

"Who's Artemis?" They questioned. One of the men from his platoon. Sitting in a squat, hands rested over the barrel of his rifle. Head tilted at Theseus, who lay on the ground. "Your girl back home?"

It took a moment for Theseus to recover. A moment longer to decipher in his own mind what the man had asked him. Theseus had once taken to calling Newt by one of his middle names. Artemis. It had been when he was younger. Perhaps too young to remember. It had been when he was nothing but a mess of curly hair, and childish curiosity. When the name fit him. It was merely nostalgic now. The manifestation of all he desired. Exhaling deeply. Contemplating the way the man had phrased the question.  _ You _ r girl, he'd said.  _ Yours _ . He quite liked the way that sounded.  _ Newt is yours _ , he told himself. Staring up at the dirt ceiling of the trench he lay splayed out in. No. Though it was correct, it didn't sound right. It didn't  _ feel _ right.

_ Newt is  _ **_mine_ ** . He thought. And that, made all the difference.

  
  


*

  
  


"Don't move." Albus whispered. His voice a cold reminder of exactly who he was. Newt's teacher. Newt's mentor. Newt's molester. 

He didn't. And he didn't know why. Under normal circumstances, if a stranger had asked the same of him, he'd have run. It was only because it was Dumbledore, that he didn't. That it was someone he trusted. And he wished it could have been anyone else. Anyone at all. Even Theseus.

He closed his eyes. Standing rigid as Albus' hands drifted up his sides. Caressing his waist, massaging his shoulders. Exploring territory he'd never explored before. Causing Newt to jolt when he stood a bit closer than he'd expected. Cupping the boy's face, tilting it upward, brushing back his hair.

"Look at me Newt." He said. Voice low and volatile. So unlike the voice Newt had come to know. Hesitant and terrified as his lashes slowly parted, revealing a dark, demented version of the man he trusted. Pale flesh a mockery of the original, empty eyes void of any colour. Hair dripping the youth that once made him somewhat attractive. 

"I want to look into your eyes as I break you."

Newt awoke in the manor he normally did when in the face of nightmares. Shooting straight upright, panting and sweating. Dazed and discombobulated for several minutes, until coming to the vexing realization that he'd wet the bed. He was fifteen years old, and this was the second time he'd wet his bed this week. Standing angrily and dressing quickly. He was up over an hour earlier than he needed to be, but sleep...just wasn't sleep anymore. It was a constant barrage of nightmares.

The day prior had been the worst day in a very long string of bad days. Albus had taken things a step too far. Kissing Newt, much to the boy's surprise. Touching him while he did. Taking advantage of Newt's shock and naivety, as for the next few hours, he continued to use him. 

Newt contemplated skipping class. Pacing slowly beside his bed as he weighed his options. The thing he hated most about his visits with Albus, was that when he left, the man didn't say anything at all. He didn't threaten him, or tell him not to tell anyone. He almost acted as if he weren't doing anything wrong, and it made Newt wonder if he  _ was _ doing anything wrong. Surely, by now, someone would have noticed, if he was. And surely, he'd be adamant about keeping their sessions a secret. But he just seemed...too calm, too careless to be a criminal. To truly be abusing Newt who didn't know what to think. What to do. He had never in his life wanted Theseus as much as he did then. A hug, or perhaps some words of consolement. Anything really. 

While lost in his train of thought, Newt had completely forgotten about his dark arts assignment. Showing up to class only to realize he had intended to skip it. Though now, it was too late. Professor Brownwick led them upstairs by a few floors. Lining everyone up in order of birth month. This way, Leta stood right behind Newt. He'd almost forgotten she was in this class. Each awkwardly standing side by side. Glancing longingly at one another, though Leta was easier at hiding it, than he was. Pretending to be bitter, even if in truth, she was heartbroken. 

"Scamander." Professor Brownwick said. Calling the boy forward once the line had produced him at the front. Startled, as he had been lost in his own mind. Breathing shakily as he glanced up at his teacher. Pursing his lips and preparing himself. Nervously rolling his fingers around the wand in his palm. Still far too clunky for his rather dainty hands.

When he looked up, all he saw, was Albus Dumbledore. Hands in pockets. Casual smile on his face. Lying eyes staring straight into Newt's own. The class burst into laughter. Each jesting sarcastically about big bad Dumbledore. Unable to see him as the monster Newt had come to know. Biting his lip, as his ears flushed red.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Brownwick questioned, an undertone of amusement in his voice.

Newt nodded skittishly, "I'm afraid I'll fail his class." He lied. Ignoring the soft murmurs behind him. The snickering fools that whispered about how easy transfiguration was. Almost tempted to yell at them.

"Alright then, well, go ahead." Brownwick told him. Gesturing towards the boggart which seemed far too similar to the genuine article.

"R-Riddikulus." Newt said, flicking his wand at the creature. Startled when his aim went astray. Wand casting the spell in the wrong direction. Cursing himself as he repositioned it in his hand.

"It's alright." Brownwick said, in an attempt to quiet down the uproarious laughter. "Try again."

Newt nodded. Flicking his wand once more, only to face the same result. Though this time, the boggart stepped forward, causing such unbridled terror in Newt, that he stumbled backward and fell onto the floor. Hunching his shoulders at the laughter which surrounded him. Face burning red as he stood quickly and rushed out the door. Called after by Professor Brownwick, but he didn't listen. He just ran.

It was then that Leta knew something was terribly wrong. 

*

She skipped all her other classes that day. Searching desperately for Newt, who she eventually found sitting beneath a tree on the edge of the school's grounds. Head tucked into his knees. Arms wrapped tightly around himself. As if trying to take up as little room as possible.

"Newt?" She said softly. Listening intently as he sniffed loudly and glanced up hesitantly at her. Revealing red rimmed eyes and a tear stained face.

"Go away Leta." He murmured. Curling back up on himself. Shoulders bobbing as muffled sobs wracked his body. 

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." She demanded, sitting down beside him, despite the dirt and abundant wildlife. Even though Newt knew she hated the outdoors.

"It's nothing." He told her, "It's just...one of the mice died."  _ Not that you'd care _ . He added bitterly. Shifting away from her as she continued to stare at him.

"I'm sorry Newt. I know you loved them." She murmured, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

She knew very well none of the mice had died. Or rather, if they did, that wasn't what had Newt so upset. It was whatever had transpired with the boggart. Whatever had transpired with Dumbledore. At hearing her concern, Newt froze. Glancing once more at his former friend, confused beyond all comprehension.

"Why do you care?" He questioned. In an almost accusatory manner. One she very easily recognized, though ignored all the same.

"Because you care. And I care about you."

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend."

At that, Newt broke down entirely. She was lying. She had to be. Because if she wasn't, that meant Dumbledore had. No. Perhaps she'd just had a change of heart. Perhaps only once she had lost him, had she realized how important he was to her. Yes, that's right. That's what he had to think. To believe. Otherwise, he'd have had to face the fact that Dumbledore had been lying to him all this time. That he had put his trust, his faith, in the wrong man. 

"Leta, I'm scared." He admitted. Shaking visibly, as Leta tried fruitlessly to comfort him.

"Of what, Newt?" 

" **_Him._ ** "

  
  


*

  
  


Newt never did tell Leta what Albus had done. Never explicitly, in any case. Rather, alluding to, but never saying that Dumbledore was taking advantage of him. And had been, for some time. Apologizing repeatedly to Leta for having abandoned her. Choosing to believe this monster, over someone he'd once deemed his friend.

"He was manipulating you, Newt." Leta had told him. Drilling into his head over and over again that it wasn't his fault. He had been young and naive, and certainly, he'd hurt her feelings, but at the expense of his own innocence. Newt was clearly suffering more than her, but he wouldn't directly say how. Leading her to formulate her own assumptions. Subtly gazing over what skin she could see for bruises or abrasions. Any, obvious sign of abuse. Or misconduct. Anything she could use to get Dumbledore out of Hogwarts and away from Newt.

"How long has he been...doing this?" Leta questioned. To which Newt replied with a shrug. Sniffling quietly into his arm as Leta rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"Don't worry, Newt." She told him, "We'll tell someone. We'll tell someone and-"

"And then what?" He asked, peering up at her abruptly, something desperate in his voice, as he spoke. "You saw how they all reacted. Who would ever believe me?" He let out a gut-wrenching sob. Shielding his face with his hands. Wallowing in misery for several minutes until pausing as Leta placed a small hand on his knee. 

"I believe you." She told him. Causing him to glance up at her. Almost in disbelief. As if she were a mere figment of his imagination, come to life. Too shocked to cry. A year prior, and he wouldn't have even believed  _ himself _ . He couldn't see how anyone else could, or would. But there was Leta, standing against all odds like a lighthouse in the middle of the storm that had become Newt's life.

"Thank you, Leta." He whispered. Voice cracking in a way that made her heart throb furiously. Drained by the weakness Newt expressed. As if absorbing it. Evening the load, in a way.

"I care about you Newt. Don't you ever forget it." She told him. Stern look in her eye forcing a soft smile from Newt, who nodded thankfully. 

At least he had someone watching his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else noticed the way fish tend to stare at you with dead eyes? Like they know what you're thinking, but they're too smug to say? I swear fish are the creepiest things Tim Burton ever created.


	3. Brother's Don't Hurt One Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is short, but it's dark. I would say like me, but I'm pretty tall so, uh, yeah. Anyway, this is the big one. I think.

"I've got your back, Scamander!" Percival shouted, gunning down the kraut that had somehow made it clear across No Man's Land. A wizard they knew, for the fact that it was made nigh impossible for a muggle, due to the machine guns and constant firing squads. The wand Theseus quickly pried from his hand was simply evidence of what they already knew. Tossing it over to Graves who slid it down into one of his pockets. That was the fourth one they'd found so far. Shaking their heads in disappointment. How careless could they be? If a muggle saw one spell, just one, their whole world would be at risk.

"But who would believe them?" Percival asked, now sitting beside his comrade who had been ranting for the past few minutes. Eating his rations for the day with a sickening grief in his eyes. One Graves could only assume was due to the death he'd witnessed. Theseus could only imagine what he would think, if he were to find out it was due to Theseus' unbridled lust for Newt. The unbearable pain he felt, when he wasn't near. Secretly plotting in the back of his mind, that he would run away. Use one of the wands they'd recovered and teleport into Hogwarts. If only to hug him. If only to kiss him. If only to see him again. 

Percival would have him committed.

"I'm sure someone would. And then that someone weasels their way into a world that doesn't need their noseying about." Theseus told him. Pretending to be angry at these desperate wizards. These terrified men, and boys who had been thrust into a war they hadn't wanted to enter. In reality, he was raging over his desperation for Newt. Wanting him, needing him, now more than ever. The death, the destruction, the utter devastation he had seen. Newt would fix it all with merely a glance. With only a smile. He had a way of doing that. Making the world worth living in by just being himself.

"You seem awfully concerned about this." Graves told him. Saying it in such a way as to communicate that he knew Theseus didn't really care about these kamikaze wizards. That he knew something else was on his mind. Though he didn't pry. That's what Theseus liked about him.

"I ought to be. I plan to be an Auror, when this is through. Rules are made to be followed." He said. Deep sigh escaping him as they listened to the mortar shells which exploded over head. "Even in times like these."

"Times like these?" Percival questioned, "Fuck the rules in times like these. If I'd have brought my wand, I'd be using magic right now." Speaking, matter-of-factly to Theseus who contemplated his words.

_ Fuck the rules. _ He'd said. As if alluding to the fact that in times of need, in times of desperation, it was okay to break the rules. To do what was necessary. Even if it was, under normal circumstances...wrong.

What a lovely idea.

  
  


*

  
  


He couldn't sleep. He'd been tossing and turning for hours. Unable to force the image of Albus' face from his mind. The disappointment in his eyes...the...sort of muffled rage. Pretending as if he were calm. Accepting of it, when Newt had told him he didn't want to see him anymore.

"Have I done something wrong?" He'd asked casually. Casually enough for Newt to wonder for a moment if he had imagined it all. Hallucinated it. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he was gradually losing his mind.

"N-no." He'd lied, shaking his head, even if on the inside he'd already written a list. Of the hundreds of things Albus had done wrong. Namely, taking advantage of him. Manipulating him. It was his own fault, he figured, for being so trusting. But Albus...he had no right to abuse Newt like he had.

"Well then." He'd said, with that unshakable look in his eye, "Then I suppose I'll only see you in class."

"Yes, sir." Newt had murmured. Quiet, and impossibly shy. Feeling as though he might crumbled in the bits and pieces before the man. Locked in place and unable to move until Leta had taken his arm. 

She'd been waiting by the door for moral support, but now that Newt needed her, she was more than willing to help. Glaring at the man who did little to acknowledge her. Rather, staring at Newt. As if daring him to walk out that door. To abandon their rather one sided relationship. To  _ refuse _ him. Ushered away slowly by Leta who whispered calm reassurances into his ear.

"You've done the right thing Newt. He won't hurt you now." She'd told him. Rubbing his arm and firmly insisting he believe her. 

_ He won't hurt you anymore _ , she'd said.

Then why did Newt feel as though he'd only made things worse?

  
  


*

  
  


Theseus waited until Percival had fallen asleep. Slumped against a makeshift pillow and stacked blanket. Arms rested over his stomach and just above his waist pockets. He'd been far faster, far more aggressive, than he had intended. Unable to think quite straight as he ripped one of the wands from Percival's pocket. Breathing slow and calculated breaths as he closed his eyes and flicked his wrist.

"Astyrio Scamander." Theseus whispered. Holding his breath as he was teleported into one of the large, vacant halls of Hogwarts. Glancing around, discombobulated for a moment, until laughing triumphantly at the success of the spell. Then clapping one hand over his mouth as he peered nervously down either end of the hall. Treading quietly once ascertaining that he was alone.

Once grasping an idea of where he was, he began his long trek to the Hufflepuff dorms, which were nearly on the other side of the castle. Unable to move fast enough, as his boots stomped noisily on the stone floor. Far too determined to stop, that is, until he noticed a door sprouting from the wall before him. Skidding to a halt in both confusion and awe. Peering around again, as if he'd only just missed the casting of a spell. Fearful that he might be walking into a trap as he stepped through the door.

Inside, he found a large, seemingly empty room, with marble pillars and vaulted ceilings. Stepping slowly into the centre, wondering what kind of trick this was. Turning quickly around, in an attempt to leave, only to find that the door he'd entered through was gone. Instead then, left to stand in silence. Pacing back and forth angrily as he contemplated his options. He could try blasting through the wall, though that would no doubt draw attention. He could try casting the spell again, though he couldn't be sure where he'd end up, after all this wasn't his wand. 

It wasn't until several moments later that he even registered the soft crying, echoing around the room. Pausing abruptly in recognition of it. "Newt?" He questioned. Heart pounding when it stopped. Rushing to the other side of the floor hastily, eyes flicking back and forth until landing on Newt's slumped figure. Soft, fragile eyes peering up confusedly at Theseus, who melted at the sight of his brother. Practically falling to his knees before him, and without a moment's hesitation yanking him into an almost painful embrace. Each, sobbing into the other's shoulder, and though Newt didn't know how or why Theseus was there, he clung to him regardless. Too thankful to question the circumstances.

"Oh Newt…" Theseus whispered, "Oh my baby."

He placed frantic open mouthed kisses at the boy's neck. As if afraid that the moment he stopped, Newt would vanish altogether. Practically trembling as he held his brother. Unsure what could possibly have made him happier. He had him, and he was never going to let him go.

"Th-Theseus…" Newt sobbed, "I'm...I'm so sorry." 

Instantly, Theseus pulled away, if only to look into Newt's eyes. Horrified at the implication that Newt had anything to be sorry for. He was perfect, he was an angel. Devine in ways words simply can't describe. What could he possibly have need to apologize for?

"What are you sorry for, luv?" He asked incredulously. Cupping Newt's face with either hand.

"It was my fault…" Newt whimpered, falling lifelessly against his brother's chest. Fists clenching around the fabric of Theseus' fatigues. Jaw trembling as Theseus held him.

"What is, Darling?" He begged. Wanting to know what was hurting Newt so badly, and why he felt a need to be sorry about it. To Theseus, of all people.

"I didn't do anything...I didn't say anything." He mumbled. Thoughts coming out in an incoherent string of words to Theseus who did his best to be understanding, though was quickly losing his temper. Whatever or whoever had hurt Newt was going to pay. Nothing was allowed to make him feel so awful, so guilty for something Theseus was sure, wasn't his fault.

"I didn't stop him." Newt breathed out. Holding into Theseus as if he were the only thing grounding him to the planet. As if without his brother, he would drift off into the abyss that was his mind. Lost forever amongst painful memories and inconsolable fear.

"Who Newt? What are you talking about?" Theseus tried, rubbing hard at the boy's back. Tugging him as close as he could be. Terrified of what Newt might say. 

"He  _ touched _ me. H-he  _ kissed _ me. A-and I didn't stop him." Newt told him. Too distraught to notice the abrupt shift in Theseus' demeanor. The way his body went rigid. The way his eyes grew cold with something more than hatred or loathing. The way his lips curled into a horrified and furious sneer. The way murder spelled itself across his features.

"Who." Was all he said. No, demanded. He had to know. Nothing was more important to him at that moment, than  _ killing _ ...no  _ eviscerating _ whoever had, had the audacity to lay a hand on Newt. To kiss the lips that did, and always would belong, to Theseus. Whatever name Newt spoke, no matter who it was, they were a dead man.

"A-Albus...Dumble-"

"Dumbledore." Theseus finished. Rotating his jaw as the name slipped off his tongue. That pretentious, glorified creten. That inconceivable bastard. The  _ nerve _ . To touch something so beautiful, with the intention to break it. He'd kill him. Even if he was supposedly the most powerful wizard alive. Albus was...not as important...as Newt.

From somewhere in the back of Theseus' mind, he heard a voice whispering to him. A white hot urgency then flooding him. Pure, and unadulterated lust pouring through his veins. Pushing Newt away quickly, hungry eyes tracing the boy who stared up at him in confusion. Shrinking at Theseus' demeanor, which was all wrong. Far too aggressive and primal. Jolting when he found rough hands yanking at his belt buckle.

"Theseus...what are you doing?" He questioned. Fear drowning out the question which rolled right over his brother's head. Drifting out somewhere into the air, then left bouncing against the walls. Returning to him several moments later with the answer.

"Theseus!" Newt gasped, scrambling backwards, away from his brother who hand yanked down his trousers. Calloused fingers dragging against the boy's soft skin. Horrified at the abrupt shift in his brother which caused him to yank down on Newt's ankles. Then pinning his wrists to the ground as Theseus loomed over him. Positioning himself between the boy's thighs. Pressing a violent kiss down onto Newt's lips. Forcing his tongue past clenched teeth, into a sobbing mouth. Hips gradually entering this, rhythmic role. One that applied considerable pressure to Newt's groin. Causing the boy to whimper when he felt a hardness rubbing against him. No. Not Theseus. Anyone, but Theseus. This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream. Struggling fruitlessly until Theseus sat up and released him. Abrupt and startlingly fast. Falling back onto his haunches as the light fog over his eyes seemed to fade. Dazed and discombobulated for a moment or two, allowing Newt a moment to turn over, attempting to crawl away. Shouting in surprise as Theseus growled and dragged him back.

"Theseus...Theseus please…" he begged. Kicking his legs furiously as the older boy straddled his thighs. Breathing loudly, almost as if panting. Something which reminded him eerily of a wild animal. Glancing back over his shoulder, only to see that he was unable to recognize his brother.

_ How beautiful _ .  _ How perfect _ .  _ How divine _ .  _ He's  _ **_mine_ ** .  _ I need him. I want him. He's perfect. Fuck the rules. _ Theseus thought. Rambling like a madman about how much he loved Newt. About how he'd always loved him. How he'd always secretly wanted him. Wasting no time with foreplay as he rushed straight to the main event. Fingers scraping Newt's thighs as they dragged his underwear down his legs. Exposing pale, perfectly rounded globes of flesh. 

"Theseus...stop." Newt choked out. Unable to see how Theseus struggled for a moment. Staring down at Newt, exposed, and helpless. Dick growing flaccid. It wasn't right. Not like this. He wouldn't hurt Newt. He couldn't. Trying desperately to remove his hands from the boy's hips. Trying to resist. But...he couldn't.

He couldn't remove his trousers fast enough. Unsheathing his dick with some twisted form of love pumping through it. Leaning over Newt as he probed roughly at his posterior.

"Th-Theseus…" He cried. Trembling, fighting, sobbing as the head slowly prompted Newt to part his legs even wider than they already were. Hips curling away from the contact, though Theseus didn't allow him the leeway to get very far. Grunting obnoxiously, almost as if acting on instinct as he rut violently against Newt, whose mouth fell into a wide, gaping hole. Screaming as Theseus entered him. Deeper, and deeper. A seemingly endless probe passing through him. Painful enough stationary, though multiplying tenfold when Theseus began thrusting. No gradual change in pace. Only continuous, brutal thrusts that seemed too violent, too unreasonable to be conducted by his brother…and yet, they were.

"Please…" He whined. Limp as tears poured down his face, chin wobbling as his body trembled. Gasping for breath, unable to comprehend this, unfathomable situation. Stomach churning as a thick liquid began oozing down his inner thighs. Glancing down, only to gag at the sight of his own blood. Muddled soon with a paler, almost clear, white liquid, which could only assume was Theseus' seed. Horrified at the thought. The idea, that his brother had done this to him. Paralyzed in fear and confusion and the most intense pain he'd ever endured. Sobbing uncontrollably, as Theseus finished. Retrieving himself, still panting, now sweating through his fatigues. Proud at first, at what heed done. Smiling down coldly at Newt, until the realization of exactly  _ what _ he had done dawned on him.

"Oh…" he gasped, falling limp, as he gazed mortified at his little brother, and the pain he had inflicted. Breathing quickly and timidly as he reached out, eyes brimming with tears as Newt jolted away.

_ No. No. No. No  _

_ What had he done?  _

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, "Newt…I…"

"Go away." Newt croaked. Curling up and shifting himself away from Theseus who had grabbed his wand instinctively. Peering down at it with hesitant eyes. He had to. It as the only way. How else would...how else would Newt ever forgive him? 

He raised his wand slowly, devastated by the way Mewt closed his eyes. Accepting whatever spell Theseus had the mind to cast. After all  _ a _ nything would have hurt less than what Theseus had done.

"Obliviate." Theseus stammered. 

  
  


*

  
  


When Percival awoke, Theseus was nowhere to be found. Unconcerned, at first, as he assumed his friend had either rotated shifts, or was out trying to find a new pair of socks. They'd recently been running low since Beckett had begun hoarding them. Refusing to share for anything. Reaching into his chest pocket for a pack of crackers which he began to chew on numbly. Gazing with empty eyes across the trench at the wall. Then watching the rats as the scuttled from place to place. In search of food, and what little rations they had. Percival tossed them a cracker. It was dumb decisions like these, that made him wondee if he would survive the war. If he would ever make it out of this shit hole. Go back to America. Perhaps become an Auror like Theseus had said. It seemed as good an idea as any. What else would he do for the rest of his life? Go back to being normal? Pretend his didn't know what it felt like to be on death's doorstep, too afraid to knock. No, that wasn't him. He had to do something. Anything. Otherwise, he feared he might go insane.

It was the constant thinking that made him feel the most crazy. Unable to shut it off. Wishing he had something else to focus on. Anything. Nearly jumping across the room as Theseus appeared beside him. Drenched in sweat, face beat red, tear stained cheeks implying he'd been through hell. Wand in hand telling Graves he'd done something he shouldn't have.

"What'd you do? Cross enemy lines?" He questioned. Concerned, albeit confused, and also a little annoyed. All that talk about rules and regulations. And now this?

"Obliviate me." Theseus begged, falling to his knees before Percival who raised his eyebrows. Mouth falling into a small gape, unsure exactly what to say.

"What happened?" He asked. Kneeling down in front of Theseus, who wouldn't meet his eye. Shifty, and seemingly guilty, though, he wouldn't say why. Lips sealed shut as he continued to plead.  _ Obliviate me. Obliviate me. Obliviate me. _ It took a while for Percival to contemplate obeying him. Thumbing hesitantly at one of the other wands. Curiosity getting the better of him as he raised it at Theseus, who smiled sheepishly. Praying that he could forget all that had happened. That things would go back to normal. 

"Revelio Panon." He said, causing Theseus' eyes to widen as he blurted out, "I teleported to Hogwarts and fucked my brother." 

Both staring wide eyed at one another for several minutes until each raising their wands at one another.

"Obliviate!" They said in unison. Each dazed and confused. Staring down at the wands in hand with absolutely no idea as to how they'd gotten there.


	4. Break Me, Once Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore is an irreverent dick.

Newt awoke in his bed. Feeling vaguely as though he'd had a nightmare, though if he had, he couldn't remember it. Rather, shifting lightly. Startled by the surge of pain that engulfed his body, leaving him breathless. Lying still for almost an hour, before trying again. Palms flattening out by his sides this time, to provide some sort of assistance. Hesitating however, when he felt a damp spot around his waist. Sighing deeply at himself. Great. He'd wet the bed again. 

He tried to get up again, but this time the pain was more specific. Throbbing uncontrollably from his lower extremities. Namely, his posterior. Unsure why, or what that meant as he shifted to the edge of his bed. Fighting back tears as wobbly legs attempted to hold him up. Wondering why he was so weak, so fatigued. Taking his time as he gathered himself. Breathing heavily as he forced himself to turn around. Leaning over the mattress, reaching for the blankets so that he could change the sheets. Frozen in place, when he saw that the wet spot was not yellow.

It was red.

  
  


*

  
  


"Newt?" Leta questioned, lips curling downward into a frown as she approached the boy who was only half dressed, leaning heavily against the wall beside him, "What's wrong?" 

At that, he whimpered silently. Unsure how to explain, rather limping away silently, beaconing her to follow, which she did, hesitantly. Wondering what had transpired between the night before, when last they'd spoken, and now, which had produced a limp. Hugging her journal close to her chest and swallowing. Newt by nature, was silent, but he'd never been this silent before. It irked her in a way she couldn't explain.

"Newt, I'm not allowed in the Hufflepuff dorms." She told him, though entered nonetheless at the sight of Newt's desperate gaze. Climbing with laboured breaths and winced up the steps to his room. Pausing in the doorway, unable to make himself look. To see it again. Instead, pointing with a shaking finger at the bed.

Leta approached slowly. Eyes widening at the very same pool Newt had awoken in, now slightly dried, though not by much.

"Whose bed is this?" Leta asked him. Exchanging glances with the boy who shifted from foot to foot. Leaning exhaustively against the doorway.

"Mine." He admitted.

She cocked her head back, confused. Pursing her lips as she continued to eye the stain.

"Whose blood is that?" She questioned. Stepping back in terror when Newt again, said; "mine."

"What happened?" She demanded, dropping her journal carelessly on the ground as she moved to examine him. Eyes frantically searching her friend, whose head was bowed pitifully. Shaking as she placed reassuring hands on his shoulders after he'd shrugged stiffly.

"Where were you bleeding from?" She inquired. Unsure what he meant, as he pointed downward slowly.

"Your legs?" She wondered allowed. Furrowing her brows when he shook his head, shoulders bobbing as tears streamed down his face. Whining softly as her eyes wandered. Resting eventually on his groin. Noticing how tightly he held his thighs together. Putting together his limp, and behavior, and the position of the blood on the bed.

"Oh...Merlin…" She whispered, hands slipping from Newt's shoulders. Instead, clasping down over her mouth and gaping jaw. Eyes watering at the thought.

"Was it...did Albus...did Dumbledore do this to you?" She asked. Puzzled by the curt shaking of Newt's head.

"I don't remember…" He murmured. Words catching up in his throat, causing a choked sob to escape him.

She hugged him gingerly. Soothing him with soft reassurances. Rubbing his back in long, smooth strokes.

"We have to tell someone." She told him. Unable to see the terrified features, which spelled out reluctance.

"Newt, what if he does this to someone else?" She asked. Breaking through to him in a way not previously thought possible. What if he  _ had _ done this to someone else. What if Newt wasn't the first one. What if the first one's silence had damned the rest? What if there stood a chance, that anyone in the world might endure what Newt had. He wouldn't know how to live with himself, if he had done nothing at all.

"Ok." He whispered, clinging to her desperately, in need of support, and understanding.

  
  


*

  
  


It was Professor Holbrook that they told. She was the only teacher that didn't worship the ground Albus Dumbledore walked on. Listening intently as Newt explained his predicament that morning, though he was reluctant to mention how he had concluded that it was Dumbledore. Rather, it was Leta who spoke on his behalf.

"Albus has been 'studying' with Newt for weeks. I didn't notice it at first, but Newt gradually started acting different. He told me we couldn't be friends anymore, and sort of...lost who he was. And then when we faced our boggarts the other day, Newt's was...Dumbledore."

"So I'm told." Holbrook said pensively, hands folded together in a sort of triangle on her desk. Eyes narrowed, though unsuspicious. Rather, understanding, and perhaps a bit apprehensive, given the lack of hard evidence. That is unless Newt intended to speak, which he didn't.

"Newt told me he was scared of Dumbledore." Leta continued, speaking as if Newt weren't there, though glancing at him occasionally. "I didn't know what he meant until this morning."

"Wait." Holbrook said, holding up a finger to Leta who paused instantly. Watching the woman's mind reel. Trying to grasp the concept. What Newt and Leta were explicitly implying. "You think...you think Albus Dumbledore might have...raped you?"

Newt flinched at the word. Tears pooling in his eyes as he nodded quickly. Pressing his legs together and wincing at the pain radiating from his posterior.

"I see. Well...before we accuse him, I'd like first, to perform...A test. It might be…uncomfortable." She warned. Awaiting Newt's nod of approval, before explaining exactly what she wanted to do.

The only way to convict Albus, was with evidence. Evidence they'd have to collect from the victim. A thought which irked Newt, who shifted in his seat anxiously. Next they'd need a sample from Albus himself. A strand of hair, would suffice. They would then be thrown into an enchanted flame. If the samples matched, the flame would glow green. If they didn't, it would extinguish. This way, they would be absolutely certain of Albus' guilt, and therefore, have reason to fire, and or arrest him. 

Leta held his hand as Professor Holbrook explained. Escorting them quickly to the infirmary before their classes started. Explaining in brief detail, the importance of the situation to the school's nurse, who did without question, all that was asked of her. 

"I'll produce the flame in the library. Meet me there with the sample. I'll send someone else for Dumbledore." She told them. Walking quickly through the door and out of sight.

"Did you hear that, Newt? He'll be tried in no time." She said. Kneeling beside her friend, who lay splayed in an infirmary bed. Shivering at the blood loss he had suffered. Hooked up to an IV, as he would be, for the next half hour. The nurse had sent an owl to Professor Holbrook, informing her of the situation. Newt first needed time to recover. Then they could proceed with what they needed to do.

For several minutes, she laid beside him. Holding his hand and assuring him that everything would be alright. Tender and loving, almost mother-like as he cried and sniveled. It wasn't until she heard the door open that she stood, peeking out through the curtains at whomever had entered. Stomping madly across the room when she saw that it was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Standing casually, with his hands behind his back. Watching her inquisitively as she approached.

"Hello Leta-"

"How dare you!" She exploded, "Who in Merlin's name do you think you are?! Some kind of king that can do whatever he wants?!"

She continued to ramble for several minutes. Shouting obscene curses at him, as he gazed uninterested in the direction of closed curtains. Glancing momentarily at Leta, before whispering "Silencio" and walking stillfully toward it. Ignoring her futile attempts to stop him. 

"Newt?" He questioned softly. Peering down over the bed at the boy who stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes. Pulling himself up along the mattress, away from the man who watched him sympathetically.

"Newt, I've been told that someone hurt you. In a horribly...ugly...monstrous way." He said, "And I want you to know, I'm willing to do anything, to help you find who is responsible. Even, if it means crossing my own name from the list." 

He extended his palm, and in it, rested a tuft of hair.

Neither him, nor Leta had been expecting this. Each exchanging perplexed glances as the man stared on in earnest. Seemingly apologetic and kind, and Newt nearly fell for it. Turning away from the man coldly, unable to look at him, which at first, seemed to make him angry. Though only for a split second, after which, he calmed. Turning to Leta with a feign smile, as he dropped the hair in her hand. Reversing his spell and nodding to her as he slowly sauntered out.

For several minutes, neither of them said a word. Far too dazed by this strange turn of events to think straight. They had expected stern resistance. That Albus would fight tooth and nail against their accusation. Not...support it. A fact which made Newt feel all the more insane. Had he imagined it all? Was Albus Dumbledore truly nothing more, than a normal man? Perhaps Newt had gone mad, fearful that he might be so, when Leta spoke. Words carving into him like a knife.

"Newt...I don't think you should go through with the ritual." She said, catching him off guard for a moment, as he turned to look at her.

"What?" He whispered incredulously. Brows furrowing as she tried to explain.

"Obviously, he wants you to do it. I think he's planning something."

"But-"

"Newt, why would he be so calm about this unless he had ulterior motives?"

"But-"

"Please. Just...think about it."

And with that, she left the tuft of hair on the nightstand beside him. Smiling down at him sorrowfully as she peered over her shoulder at the door.

"I'll be right back." She told him, leaving quickly, before he had any time to argue. Reaching out after her pointlessly as she continued to strut.

"Leta…" He whispered, now to an empty room, "Don't leave me."

  
  


*

  
  


"Appare Vestigium." She said, spinning in place, as a golden cloud of dust spread out across the floor. Pacing slowly about the room. Watching phantom footsteps approach the bed, only then to leave it, vanishing altogether the moment she approached them. Gasping smally, wondering if perhaps she'd interrupted the spell, or accidentally cast it wrong. Though, regardless of her doubts, she continued to follow the footsteps, only in reverse. Acknowledging the fact that whoever it was, hadn't used magic to unlock the Hufflepuff dorm's door. They had to have known the password. And who knew the password to every dorm's entrance, if not every Professor in the school. Namely, Albus Dumbledore.

"I've got you now." She growled, excitedly following the trail. Expecting it to lead back to Dumbledore's office, which would have been all the more damning. Brows furrowing, lips pulling into an almost angry sneer, as the golden footsteps veered off course, in the entirely opposite direction. Now, coming to another dead end, as she reached footprints that continued straight under a wall. Tracing the bricks with her fingertips, perplexed. Rounding the halls persistently, though unable to see exactly where the footprints had ended. Standing in bland confusion for several long minutes, until it finally occurred to her.

"The Room of Requirement." She whispered. Muttering a curse under her breath. Of course Albus Dumbledore would have control over The Room of Requirement. Who else would? It was impossible to conjure, unless one was in great need, or of course, they were as powerful as Albus Dumbledore. Damn. No evidence there. Now what could she do? 

She didn't know how, but she knew the enchanted flame ritual wouldn't work. Somehow, Albus had tampered with it. Somehow, he was trying to manipulate Newt. Twisting his perspective and view of things into something that made him into a martyr or messiah. No wonder everyone worshipped him. He was utterly brilliant at pulling the wool over everyone's eyes. Everyone but her, at least.

  
  


*

  
  


"Are you ready, Newt?" Holbrook questioned, cautious tone in her voice as she glanced to Albus, who had argued that he should be able to face his accusers. To see that things were being handled properly, and thus he stood in the corner of the room. Far away from Newt, where she intended to keep him, until the ritual either damned, or pardoned him.

"Yes." He said quietly. Dropping the sample the nurse had retrieved from him first, into the flames, which glowed red. Taking a deep breath as he retrieved Albus' hair. Hesitating as he reached out over the fire.

"Wait." Albus said quickly, holding out a hand which both glanced at questioningly. "Just so there's no suspicion, that I might have tampered with the evidence, given Newt didn't see me cut the hair myself, I insist, that you, Professor Holbrook, take a sample of your own." 

At first, neither said a word, too stunned to react for several minutes, until Holbrook nodded suspiciously. Approaching him, as he bowed his head. Hands folded calmly in front of him. Listening intently to the sheering slice of his hair. Smiling softly at Newt as she turned her back and reassumed her position. Peering at him for a moment, acknowledging the very real fear in his eyes. This was the moment of truth. This proved, whether or not he was crazy. 

In less than a heartbeat, a lock of Albus' red hair fell into the flames. Licked up hungrily by the fire which then quickly extinguished. 

Albus, was not guilty.

"Well." Holdbrook said. Knowing Newt was now reeling with the impossible task of comprehending what just happened. What that meant, "I suppose we ought to look into who else, might be responsible for this...assault."

Newt looked at her, unable to hear or feel or taste or think as he tried fruitlessly to make sense of it all.

Then turning to Albus, who still stood, smiling at him.

"May I make a suggestion?" He inquired. Nodded to by Holbrook who crossed her arms. Watching him inquisitively.

He cleared his throat and paced forward, "Well, if Newt truly doesn't remember anything. Doesn't it stand to reason, that he was obliviated?"

"Yes…" Holbrook agreed, unsure as to where this was going.

"Now, we know that Obliviation only hides memories, it doesn't erase them."

"What are you suggesting Professor Dumbledore?"

"I suggest, we...reveal, these memories. And along with them, the true culprit."

Both of them turned to Newt then. Waiting for the responce Newt was hesitant to give.

"Newt?" Holbrook questioned. Both sets of eyes burning into him, as he blushed, wondering if not Albus, then who? And did he want to know? What horrors might he reveal? Had Albus been the framed innocent all this time? Had someone else been after him, unbeknownst to any of them. Not even Leta. He was afraid. Terrified even, that he might not have been raped at all. Perhaps all of it, everything had just been a manifestation of suppressed emotion? And if it was...what would he do then?

"Yes." He said definitively.

He needed to know.

  
  


*

  
  


Theseus couldn't shake the night before from his mind. Wondering how, and why Percival and himself had come to the predicament of opposing wands. Feeling vaguely, as though he'd done something horribly wrong. Unable to relax or change the topic in his mind. He'd asked Percival if he remembered anything, but he too was lost for answers. Both secretly seething to discover what had transpired between them. 

There was also the blood. Very small drops that had seeped into his trousers. Staring down at them for hours, wondering whose they were. Neither Theseus, nor Percival had been injured, and no one else from their platoon seemed to know if anything strange had happened at all. It made him sick. The thought of not knowing if he had hurt someone or not. Merlin forbid it be someone he cared about. Like Percival, or Harper, or Doakes, the few friends he'd managed to make under these less than ideal circumstances.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something unforgivable. Something heinous, and criminal, and not knowing drove him to the brink of insanity. Second guessing his every thought, and action as if he were afraid that someone, or something, had possessed him, and some part of them was still inside him. Whispering volatile things to him. Telling him to run out into No Man's Land. To stand in front of a machine gun, or fire a mortar at his feet. To kill himself. Which he could only assume then, was madness. Something in his brain misfiring as it attempted to remember what had happened. What he didn't know, was that in reality, it was guilt. 

  
  


*

  
  


Newt had been laid down. Told he would likely experience some discomfort, and perhaps trauma from the spell which would return his memories. Hands folded across his stomach as he laid anxiously awaiting the words which would put him under. Which would show him something he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to see. Albus had been there. As well as Professor Holbrook, though she stood in the corner. Merely watching as the man very quietly explained to Newt that nothing he saw could hurt him again. It was only a memory of events already come to pass. That he was safe. 

"Oblivius Revelio." Dumbledore said. Glancing back at Holbrook with a worried gaze as Newt's eyes fluttered closed.

"How long will it take?" She questioned.

"Anywhere from ten minutes to an hour." He replied, hand resting on Newt's shoulder, "Though I anticipate he will be rather violent, when he wakes up. Given the circumstances."

"Well. I suppose, I ought to tell the Headmaster about all this." She stated, met by a soft chuckle from Albus who smiled at her.

"I suppose you ought." He said, a wicked gleam in his eyes, which soon burned into the back of her head as she turned and walked out. Locking the door behind her.

Now, all he'd need do, was wait. 

*

Newt awoke, feeling as though he'd slept for a thousand years. Puzzled, as he stood upright in a room that seemed eerily familiar. Walking around it numbly, until hearing muffled cries. Instantly, his heart dropped, rushing to the sound in fear of someone or something being harmed. Pausing confusedly however, when he saw curly red hair, and a yellow striped scarf. Brows furrowing as he stared, unsure what to make of the situation. Nearly jumping out of his skin, however, when what seemed like a ghost, phased right through him. It was a man, wearing army fatigues. Theseus, he soon realized, though he couldn't fathom how, or...or why. Watching the pair, baffled by the crying boy who he could now see...was himself.

It was then that he remembered. The circumstances he found himself in, slowly making sense. He had been...assaulted. And Dumbledore had cast a spell on him, in the hopes that he'd remember. But...he must not have done it right. That, or perhaps Newt was confused. After all, Theseus was nowhere near Hogwarts. Not to mention, if he  _ had _ been there he'd have stopped whoever had attempted to hurt Newt. It must have been wrong. It had to be.

He watched for several minutes, studying each of their actions, how he'd fallen into Theseus' arms and cried for what felt like an hour. Then how he...he'd told Theseus. About Dumbledore. About how terrified of him, he was. Expecting then, to see the man himself Stupefy Theseus, or Obliviate him, then taking Newt, like he had originally thought. However, he knew that wasn't what happened, due to the results of the ritual. Albus hadn't done this to him...so who had?

A question he wished he hadn't asked, as less than a moment later, he watched as Theseus wrestled him to the ground. Eyes wide, mouth gaping as he watched, hearing it, feeling it, experiencing it all over again from where he stood. Only this time, he could see it. Mortified and awestricken as he witnessed all in all, what Theseus... _ his brother _ … had done to him. It couldn't have been real...it just couldn't have. 

But something deep down insisted it was. Some minute, inexplicably small fraction of himself, which believed it. And somehow, he knew that small fraction of himself…was right.

*

He bolted upright, with the intent to scream. To wail and make prevalent his pain to the world. Gasping furiously to catch his breath as the memories rushed through him. Colliding with his sorrow and fear, like a bomb had been dropped on his brain. Sobbing uncontrollably, as warm and understanding arms wrapped around him.

"I've got you, Newt. You're safe now, nothing can hurt you." Albus whispered, holding Newt's head to his chest as he spoke. Soft and calming voice flowing soothingly into the boy's ears.

"It was...It was Theseus…" Newt stammered. Unable to comprehend the words, as they escaped him. Fists clenching around the fabric of Albus' coat. Desperate for the man to refute his claim. To say it was impossible. To say there was no chance whatsoever, that, that could have been right.

"Oh, Newt. I can't even imagine." He said. Consoling the boy who cried harder. Reluctant to believe that Theseus, the brother he loved, and loved him, so much, could do something so...unforgivable.

"I knew from the moment you first told me about him...that there was something...evil inside of him." Albus told him, sympathy laden in his eyes as Newt pulled away, pained expression seeming to question the man's words.

"He's not...he's not evil…" He croaked, voice faint and terribly small.

Albus then flashed him a look. The same one he'd given him, when Newt had asked him to revoke the suspension of Hermon. One of utter disbelief and confusion.

"How can you say that, when he's done such a horrible thing to you?" He questioned, more as though he admired Newt, than as though he may have been cross with him. "He is evil, and more, dear boy, if this...what he's done, is to be taken for what it is."

Newt stared up at him longingly, trying to understand what the man meant. Perplexed by his cryptic turn of phrase.

"A vile abuse of power." Albus told him. Shaking his head in disapproval. Not allowing Newt enough time to contemplate his words before continuing, "And what's more, he's somehow convinced you...without even speaking, that he is innocent." At that Albus shook his head, as if he couldn't conceive of such a thing, "What a manipulative dog." He spat.

Newt shrunk at these words. Faith in Theseus shriveling as he fell back against Dumbledore, who didn't hesitate to encapsulate him in a false sense of security.

"More pressing, however, is how he got here." Albus told him. Resting his chin over the crown of Newt's head. Continuing when Newt said nothing. "I doubt he did it alone." 

Newt pulled away at this. Fear dredging in his eyes as he inquired softly, "What do you mean?"

"Well...how would he have known where to be, and when. How would he have known to come right when you thought you needed him? It all seems too thought out to be coincidence." 

Newt paled at the thought. That someone may have taken advantage of him, via his brother. That someone was plotting against him. That anyone...anyone at all, would  _ want _ to hurt him. He'd never done a cross thing in his life. He'd never hurt anyone. He'd never even tried. Why would anyone do this do him? For what purpose.

"And another thing." Albus said, snapping him from thought, "Why were you so certain, that it was me?"

Newt didn't have to think too hard at that. Peering up at the man, doing his best to recall the events of that morning.

"Well Leta…"

_ Oh no. _

_ Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. _

_ "I don't think you should go through with the ritual." She'd said. Why would she say that? Why would she tell him that? _

_ Unless… _

_ She knew. _

She was jealous. She had been from the start. Newt had just never thought...never assumed she'd take it this far. They were right. Everyone. What they said about her. Spoiled. Prone to tantrums. 

Willing to do  _ anything _ to get her way.

"It's alright Newt. I've got you now." Albus whispered, pulling him in as he began to sob once more.

"And I'll never let you go."


	5. Will You Write Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but important. A lot happens, or at least, is set up to happen. Idk, just read it.

The next few days were spent in silent recluse. Albus had allowed Newt special privileges. Exemption from going to class, freedom to explore forbidden grounds, if only to avoid contact with other students. He no longer staid in the student's dorms, rather he had his own, amongst the teachers. Soon enough, everyone found out. At least, the staff did. About how someone had broken into Hogwarts and violated Newt Scamander. At first, a number of them didn't believe it. Thinking it was far too outlandish, and inexplicable to be true. But, given that it was Albus Dumbledore that told them, they were all anxious to help. This made it easy to cast a vote for Leta's expulsion. Insisting, she had something to do with it. Newt had asked him, beforehand, if he could speak to her before he carried her sentence out, but Dumbledore insisted that she would only try to weasel her way out of it. That Newt was too susceptible to her mind games. Telling him it would be easier for the both of them, if there was no goodbye. So he believed him. After all, what else could he do? The two people he had trusted the most...had betrayed him in the most heinous way imaginable. Dumbledore was right. He always had been. Newt was just to blind to see it.

Newt was given as much time as was needed, to recover. The board feared that he might tell his parents what had happened, and that they might, subsequently, tell other parents. Something which would no doubtably result in the questioning of Hogwarts' safety and security. A private matter, they felt, which was being handled, on their own terms. It would never happen again, they insisted. But their words meant nothing to him. The only thing that made him feel safe, or secure, was Dumbledore.

He didn't go home for Christmas that year. Theseus had returned briefly from his tour. Only to find an empty house waiting for him. Their mother was home, of course, as she always was, but she didn't seem to know, or care, why Newt hadn't come back. Something that irked him terribly, for the fact that he knew Newt. He knew him well enough to know that he hated school. Social interaction. Teachers. Newt not coming home for Christmas, was like Newt suddenly losing his interest in his beasts. Therefore he knew something was terribly wrong. Causing him then, to wonder, if it had anything to do with the night he couldn't remember. He couldn't say why, as they didn't seem to correlate in any way shape or form. It was only some deep, unreconciled inclination. One that made that...suicidal urgency return.

Newt couldn't imagine facing him. Not after what he'd done, in any case, though it had really been at Dumbledore's word that he hadn't gone home. "I couldn't live with myself, if something happened to you Newt." He'd said. Illustrating his concern in an almost fearful way. Provoking Newt's sympathy, and compliance. Doing anything and everything Albus commanded of him. Even if he didn't necessarily like it. For instance...he'd started...touching him again. Only now, he framed it as though he were afraid of losing Newt. As if his frequent, and at times unwelcomed caresses were just his subconscious making sure he was still there. 

Their relationship had changed quite drastically. With Newt doting on Albus, more than the other way around. As if Albus were the one that needed constant reassurance, and emotional aid. He found that it was easier this way. Newt had a naturally mother-like quality about him. It was his instinct to do the babying, not to be babied himself. Therefore he was less likely to flinch away from Albus, or find his seemingly overprotective nature strange. It was as if he were understanding one of his beasts. 

"You know, Newt, from the moment I first met you in my class, I knew you were special." He said once. Helping Newt study in his new dorm. Sitting beside him, hand curled around his waist like it once had been. "I knew you were destined for something."

"Like what?" Newt asked him. Taking a moment to peer up at the man. Inquisitive look in his eyes. Fear, no longer present. How could there be when Albus had saved him...had proved himself to Newt? "Immense pain?"

"Merlin, no." Albus had chuckled, kissing his forehead as a loving father might. Something Newt didn't know much about. Though, something he desperately wanted, given his own father wasn't much to hold a candle to. "I meant more like, some extravagant adventure. Rescue the damsel, save the world. That kind of thing."

Newt giggled at that. A soft, and yet pained sound. More wry, than joyous. Shaking his head and looking down at his desk, "No...I'm afraid I'm not...well...I'm not Theseus." 

He shrunk at the name of his brother. Lip quivering as his eyes watered. He still wasn't used to Theseus being the bad guy. The villain. He still couldn't really believe it. No matter how often Albus told him it was true. 

He didn't notice how Album's smile had dropped at the naming of Theseus. How he'd rotated his jaw irritatedly. Impatient as he pat down lightly on Newt's shoulder. "There, there." He murmured, "How many times have I told you? Don't think about him. Don't put yourself through that."

Newt attempted to say something, to rebut the man's claim, but was pulled swiftly in by two aggressive arms. Shushing him and holding him as he cried. "He can't hurt you anymore. He'll never hurt you again." He reiterated. A broken record, at the point, as Newt nodded, but didn't understand. Didn't believe it. How could he? Someone he'd known all his life, someone who loved him. Someone who vowed time and time again, never to hurt him? And Theseus never  _ had _ hurt him. Why now? And why so brutally? Surely, not even Leta could be that convincing. And surely Theseus couldn't be so...cruel. Or violent. Perhaps war had changed him, but even so...it just...didn't seem...right.

  
  


*

  
  


"Could you get the door Darling?" She called. Kneading a loaf of bread from the kitchen. Flashing her flour cover hands at Theseus, who stood instantly. Rushing to the door with the hope that Newt would be on the other side. Rather, revealing a young, darker skinned girl, who was dressed rather elegantly. Peering past her at a long black limousine. Confused for a moment or two.

"You must have the wrong-"

"Are you Theseus?" She questioned, causing him to glance back at his mother, who seemed uninterested. Then stepping outside and closing the door behind him.

"Yes. And who are you?"

"My name is Leta Lestrange." She said, peering around, as if to ensure that they were alone, "I'm a friend of Newt's."

Instantly, Theseus was full of questions, pursing his lips at the one most prevalent on his mind, though refrained as she held up her palm to silence him.

"Do you know who Albus Dumbledore is?" She questioned.

He nodded, unsure what he had to do with anything. Brows furrowing, as she sighed deeply. "I think we should talk."

  
  


*

  
  


"Newt." He said. For about the fifth time. Not that Newt had noticed, from where he sat on a windowsill, knees pulled up against his chest. Hugging his journal. Wide eyes gazing lackluster out the stain glass window.

"Newt." He repeated, reaching out hesitantly to touch his shoulder. Pausing, when the boy jolted and turned to him. Dark bags under his eyes, a haunting sight, in light of the fact that Newt was normally a very cheery person. Though, oblivious, and at times distracted, he was normally, and obnoxiously happy. Or at the very least, content. Now...he looked…deathly. Cheeks gaunt, face pale. Life drained entirely from his lanky body, which seemed to be far smaller than it was, the last time he'd seen him.

"Oh...erm." He drew his hand back, rather, using it to slick back his hair and scratch nervously at the back of his neck. "I...well, I never got the chance to thank you."

Newt didn't react to this. Instead, he turned back to the window. Barely even making a sound as he breathed. Ghostly, to the boy who stared at him with evident concern. Irked, mildly by the lack of response. Shifting nervously from foot to foot as he glanced down either end of the empty hall.

"I...erm...well...I heard what happened." He murmured, stepping closer to Newt, who didn't move. Didn't react, like he thought he would. Quite a few people knew, by now. That he'd been attacked. Though, most regarded them as tasteless rumors, some had come to wonder why he no longer attended class. Why Professor Dumbledore collected his school work for him, and yet never approached the student dorms. A number of them were suspicious, but most of them were trusting. Just as blinded by Dumbledore, as Newt was.

"My aunt is one of the Astronomy Professors." He added needlessly. Implying he knew more about Newt's assault than everyone else. Even if really, he didn't. She'd been rather, tight lipped about the situation. Only mentioning that he was to be treated with respect. Only further entangling the enigma that was Newt Scamander. He was rather curious, as to what  _ really  _ happened but given Newt's rather...depressing disposition, he didn't bother to press.

"Well. I just wanted to thank you. For erm...revoking my suspension. I come from a long line of Gryffindors. My parents are purebloods. They were rather distraught to hear that I had been expelled. In fact my father…" He trailed off nervously. Rubbing his arm and leaning to the side. Attempting to get a better look at Newt's face. After neither had spoken for several minutes, he began rocking between his toes and heels, "Right. Well, I'll see you later then...I suppose."

He remained for a moment longer, before pursing his lips, nodding, and sliding his hands into his pockets. Wandering slowly down the hall for a couple of paces, until pausing at the sound of his name being uttered so quietly, that he barely even heard it.

"Hermon." Newt said. Looking at him with an apprehensive glaze over his eyes. Feet shifting down onto the floor as the boy turned about. Approaching him slowly. Peering around, ensuring they were alone. Technically, Hermon wasn't supposed to be there. In the Teacher's dorms. It was forbidden grounds to students. But, since his aunt had casually mentioned seeing Newt there from time to time, he'd begun sneaking in, in an attempt to find the boy and thank him. 

"Yes?" He replied, scanning Newt, who, now that he was standing, looked even thinner still. Nervously shifting toward Hermon, who wasn't sure what to do. Making a surprised  _ oof _ sound as Newt pressed a paper against his chest. He peered down at it curiously. Taking it without argument and flipping it over and over in his hands. It was a letter.

"Please...send this to Leta Lestrange." He whispered. Hugging his journal once again, stepping back hesitantly as Hermon stared at him dumbfounded. 

"Newt, I'm sorry. About punching you. I've not gotten the chance to say it until now." He said. Fingers clamped tightly around the envelope, watching for Newt's reaction. Catching the brief shift in his eyes. Something like nostalgia, or melancholy remembrance.

"Forget it." Newt murmured, glancing up at him skittish, "I have."

Hermon nodded, studying his classmate as he sulked down the hall quietly. Faint limp catching his eye, though he thought nothing of it. Instead, gazing down at the letter in hand. Wondering why Newt couldn't have sent it himself. 

  
  


*

  
  


"There's another one." He said, tossing the envelope onto the table. Sitting beside it and resting his boots on the chair to his right Sifting through a stack of letters as his counterpart stared down at the paper signed  _ Albus Dumbledore _ . Cards in hand fanned out and drooping, revealing the royal flush he'd been bang on about hiding.

"Looks like you win." He added, letting the mail rest against his chest as he flipped over his cards. Glancing up, though pursing his lips and continuing when he was given no responce.

"Why does Dumbledore keep sending you letters?" He questioned, inquisitive eyes burning into those which wouldn't meet his own. Too preoccupied with sorting letters from loved ones, and bills.

"No idea." He murmured. Casual and without interest.

"Have you read any of them?" He was then asked.

"Don't know him, Don't read it." He shrugged. Met by a set of raised brows, to which he responded with a deep sigh.

"That's a no." He clarified.

"Do you mind if I?"

"Go ahead."

Nimble fingers clutched immediately at the envelope. Dirt covered nails tearing it open to reveal a single sheet of paper within.

_ Dear Mr. Graves _

_ It has come to my attention that you are an associate of Theseus Scamander's. I'm told you aid one another in the war effort, which by the way, is very admirable. Thank you for your service. Though -- in regards to other pressing matters, I fear I must ask for your testimony in Court. I can only discuss the finer details in person, but it is in reference to Theseus Scamander and crimes he has been accused of. I fear he is not who you think he is. _

_ Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore. _

Theseus had read it allowed. Brows crinkled together, lips pulled up into a sneer as each word lept from a harsh tongue. Peering up in disbelief at Percival, who seemed deep in thought. Tapping a stack of letters against his chin as he hummed silently.

"Knowing you, Scamander, I can't think of a single crime I'd believe you committed." He said, a great relief to Theseus, who dropped the paper and leaned back in his seat. Arms crossed as he scoffed at the ceiling. Leta had warned him about this. For some, unknown reason, Albus Dumbledore, quite possibly the most powerful Wizard alive, was trying to drive everyone Newt knew out of his life. Including him, apparently. He must have known Theseus would have crossed heaven and Earth to be with Newt. Something which he imagined might be a great deal more difficult from Azkaban.

"So...the question isn't what you did, it's what is this...Dumbledore guy accusing you of." Percival said, giving up on the mail altogether, which he tossed carelessly onto one of the makeshift mattresses. 

"How should I know? All Leta told me, is that he's trying to seclude Newt. Manipulate him for some reason or another, and I'm going to kill him, if he thinks he can get away with it." Theseus growled vehemently. Grinding his teeth and tapping his foot angrily against the dirt. Something Percival watched in amusement for a moment or two before responding.

"Who's Leta?" He asked. Waved off by Theseus who muttered that it didn't matter. Standing abruptly and pacing as Percival watched him from his seat.

"So, what you're saying is, I should go?" He said after several minutes of Theseus' angry muttering. Immediate reaction being to pause and stare bewildered at Percival who rolled his eyes.

"You really can be dense sometimes, Scamander. I'm not saying I'll testify. I'm just saying I'll figure out what he's accusing you of, and then report back." He said, tilting his head at Theseus who slowly began to nod, agreeing slowly with the man who settled down and began shuffling the cards on the table. Pausing in brief annoyance as he glanced at the ceiling, from where a cloud of dirt shook. Loud shrill of an incoming mortar exploding over head.

"Percy." Theseus said, sitting down across from him, palms outstretched on the table. Both desperate and excited as Graves nodded, signalling him to continue.

"I have an idea."

  
  


*

  
  


_ Dear Leta, _

_ I wish I had been able to speak with you before you were expelled. I was told it was pointless. So, I didn't. Though, the more time that passes, the more I'm tempted to regret that decision. None of it makes sense. I suppose it wouldn't, no matter what angle I look at it from, but...I never got your side of the story and, if you don't entirely loathe me...I'd very much like to hear it. _

_ Sincerely, Newt Scamander _

"What is this?" The man questioned. Calmly tossing the rough-draft letter onto the desk before Newt, who glanced at it for a moment, before returning to his work.

"I never intended to send it." He murmured, shrinking as the man's hands cornered him. One resting on the back of his chair, the other planted firmly on the desk in front of him. Palm extended over the papers Newt had been working on. Causing him to shakily return his quill to it's ink well. Swallowing and breathing shallowly as he glanced at Dumbledore.

"Newt, how many times have I told you. They only want to use you. They don't care about you. This? This letter? It's only another excuse for her to manipulate you. Don't you see that?" He pressed, talking down at Newt in the way he tended to do. Harsh edges to his tone, softened however, by what Newt could only interpret as compassion, or concern. Nodding, rather than speaking, because he knew Albus wouldn't believe him either way. He was too broken to think for himself. So Albus had to do the thinking for the both of them. At least, that's what he said. 

"You understand then, Darling?" He questioned. Nodding along with Newt, who hadn't stopped. Only pausing for a moment at the pet name Albus had begun referring to him as. The same one Theseus tended to use. Suppressing a flinch as Albus tilted his head up with two fingers. Admiring his features for several silent minutes, until aiming a kiss at Newt's lips. Instead, grazing his cheek, however, when the boy turned away. Stiffening and pressing his legs together as Albus suddenly became rigid. Frozen, as if he'd turned to stone. Newt squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. Listening as Albus breathed beside his ear. Deep inhalation through his nostrils. Newt couldn't tell if he was angry, or congested, though somehow knew it was the latter.

He jolted, as course fingertips ground down into the back of his neck. Massaging the fine hairs that rested there. Silent, as he stood beside the boy. Watching him with eagle eyes. Urging him to continue his work, as he stood there. Rubbing soft skin, which trembled at the strange, intent-ridden touch. 

"Newt." Albus said, hand drifting up into the boy's loose curls. Taking a firm hold, which slowly craned the boy's head back. Exposing his neck to devilish eyes. Peering up meekly at Albus, who gazed down at him thoughtfully, "You know I care about you. That...everything I do...as cruel as it may seem, is to protect you."

"I know." Newt whispered. Averting his eyes from the man who smiled smally at him. At his innocence. His blind, naive trust.

"I don't think you do, Newt." Albus told him. Using his other hand to stroke softly at the boy's exposed jugular. Admiring the way his adam's apple bobbed nervously at the man's touch. "Let me show you."

  
  


*

  
  


_ Dear Newt, _

_ I don't know what games Dumbledore is playing with you, but I can tell you this, he is lying. I would never hurt you.. Not because you're my friend, or I like you, or even that I care about you (which is to say that I do). I would never hurt you because you're a human being. And it's wrong. Though Dumbledore doesn't seem to have a problem with that, does he? I remember how you spoke about him, Newt. About how afraid of him you were. Don't forget that. You had a reason to be afraid. And it wasn't me. _

_ Sincerely, Your Friend. _

_ Now, and Forever. _

_ Leta Lestrange. _

_ P.S. Theseus was devastated when you didn't come home for Christmas. Please write him. He's sick with worry _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I know it's dark but, I mean, what isn't these days y'know?


	6. If It Doesn't Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus is still a Dick.

Hogwarts held no wonder for him as he began his long trek down the cobblestone bridge. Suitcase in hand. Fist clenched tightly around the handle, as he tried to hide the tremors pulsing through him. It hadn't been all that long, since he'd seen the civilian world, but somehow it irked him to his core to be here. This enormous, impending castle, wherein a riddle was left to be solved. He walked slowly. Savoring the quietness of the exterior, before delving into massive halls and labyrinthine corridors. He was not prepared in the slightest. Pausing, before he'd entered the courtyard to take a discrete swig from his flask. Tucking it back away quickly, as he was called out by a young woman, who approached him in a brisk strut.

"Are you Mr. Percival Graves?" She questioned. Large eyes boring into his own.

"I am." He replied, nodding to her as she extended her arm, pointing to one of the many doors. He gave her a brief glance before walking toward it. Given boisterous directions from the woman who trailed behind. Tempted once or twice to look back at her, but refrained. Instead, deciding to strike up a rather one sided conversation.

"I never caught your name." He said. Attempting to fall back, even with her. But every time he slowed, she did too. 

"Mcgonagall." Was all she said. Spitting it through her teeth, as if he had the audacity to ask. 

"Well, Mrs. Mcgonagall, I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here. I was told it had something to do with Theseus." He tried. Pursing his lips when no responce was given. Listening the the click-clack of her heels against the stone floor. Nodding, to no one in particular as he walked. 

"Theseus Scamander." He clarified, as if that would spark some interest, "Do you know anything about him?"

Again, she said nothing. Only speaking to tell him "left" or "right" until they found themselves standing before a large door. One she ordered him to open, which he did. Stepping inside and gazing around at the large room, which was nearly entirely empty, apart from a bed and a chest of drawers. 

"Thank y-"

"I happen to know Theseus Scamander very well." She said suddenly, fists clenched at her sides, chest puffed out as if to show she wasn't afraid of him. Despite the fact that he was nearly a foot and a half taller than her. "He's a good boy. No matter what any of you connivers have to say, I know that."

"What are they saying he did?" He asked quickly, before she could storm off, as she had begun to.

"Something, he didn't." She said. Tilting her nose up in the air as she sauntered away. Not for a moment slowing down, even when Percival attempted to ask her more. Left instead, to sulk back into his room. Peering around suspiciously, until closing the door behind him.

"Colloportus." He murmured, flicking his wand at the door, which then locked. He sighed and took a deep breath. Laying the suitcase on the bed, then followed by his wand. Unlatching the clasps on either side, and stepping back.

"It's safe." He said, rubbing his temples with one hand as he wandered to the window. Peering out at the large expanse of the castle. Waiting silently until hearing a soft groan and dull thud. Turning to see Theseus sprawled out on the floor, suitcase strewn about his leg.

"Please, by all means Theseus, be as loud as you like. It's not as if we're breaking the law or anything." He muttered, helping his friend up reluctantly. Closing his suitcase and tossing it back onto the bed.

"Have they said anything?" He asked, desperation in his voice almost heartbreaking. "Have you seen Newt yet? How is he? I swear Percy, if anyone's hurt Newt I'll-"

"Calm. Down." Graves interrupted. Taking a deep breath and shaking his head. "I haven't seen anyone yet. Apart from Mrs. Mcgonagall. Though she didn't have much to say about any of it."

"Mcgonagall?" Theseus said, tone losing it's anguish, replaced instead by curiosity. Tilting his head up and peering inquisitively at his friend, "Professor Mcgonagall? What did she say?"

"Not much." He admitted, hands on hips as he began to pace. Reaching for his flask yet again. Taking a long swig, then groaning and clearing his throat, "Though, she did say she doesn't think you did it. At least, that's what she implied."

"Did what?" Theseus demanded. Large strides leading him to Percival who shrugged and shook his head. Hands held up in surrender, "She didn't say." He replied. Falling back onto the windowsill. Seating himself exhaustedly, which Theseus was too caught up to notice. Going on to explain the plan once more. Frantic and almost crazy sounding as he spoke. Never pausing once to look at Percival who had long since lost interest. Instead, laying slumped against the wall beside him. Eyes fluttering shut without notice.

"We've got this, haven't we?" He asked nervously, chewing at his nails. Stopping abruptly and turning to Percival, who was fast asleep. It had been a long trip. Longer than he realized, as he sat down upon the bed. Staring at the man, then down at his hands. They were going to set this right. They had to. They were going to save Newt, and expose Dumbledore for the manipulative creten he was. 

All he needed to do...was wait.

  
  


*

  
  


He sat quietly. Trembling thighs pressed together. Stiff, scrunched shoulders stretching down into long, thin arms, which were pressed against his sides. Fists clenched, fingers curling around the corner of the mattress. Head bowed, eyes wide. 

Tears, dripping onto bruised knees. Flinching, each time the man murmured, "Episkey", and flicked his wand. Healing the marred skin of his neck. Concealing the lovebites littered carelessly across his skin. 

"I love you." He had said. Just as his mother once had. Just as his father once had. Just like Theseus. Just like Leta. It made him wonder what could have been so alluring, about unreconciled pain, that made people seek love out. To praise it, or make it out to be this wonderful thing. Because as far as Newton Artemis Fido Scamander was concerned, love was equal to nothing, but misery. 

"You did good." He whispered. Arm wrapping around bare shoulders that were still slick with sweat. Fingers digging into soft flesh, which leaned away to avoid him. Pulling back against the weak protest. Gazing down at the damp curls, which had flattened along his head. Waiting patiently for the boy's responce.

_ Good _ . He thought,  _ Good? What good did I do? I just...I just laid there. I didn't...I didn't do anything. _

"This is the only way you can recover, Newt. How else will you learn the difference between love, and pain." He told him. Gentle and deceivingly kind.

_ They seem the same to me. _ Newt thought, still frozen in place. Still staring at the ground. Unable to meet the man's eye.

"Did it hurt?" The man asked.

A confusing question for Newt because, it hadn't hurt. Physically anyway. It didn't feel bad, albeit, it didn't exactly feel good either. Uncomfortable, more than anything. But emotionally…emotionally he was devastated. Theseus...had done that to him. And now Albus...had done the same. And though they were drastically different, in execution, it still hurt exactly the same. Because they had used him. And neither had bothered to ask his permission.

Nonetheless, he shook his head. Feeling that it were easier to appease Albus, rather than argue with him. Newt had never been the confrontational sort. 

"Say it." He ordered, tone rough and a bit out of character. Earning a small jolt from Newt who held his breath. Wishing it could be over. 

Albus sighed, rubbing gently at the boy's shoulder, voice smoothing out as he continued, "If you say it, you'll start to believe it. That's the first step. Do you understand?"

Newt nodded, but, he didn't. He didn't understand why all these horrible things were happening to him. Why Leta and Theseus had betrayed him, nor why neither betrayal had come with a warning. Some kind of sign that he'd have been able to identify. Though, he blamed that on his social awkwardness. At least, Dumbledore did. Because he'd seen it from the beginning. That's what he told Newt. That sooner or later, it was bound to happen. No one could understand, or care about Newt the way he did. 

He was starting to sound like Theseus. Though, when Theseus had said it, Newt believed it. Now...he wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

"Say it." Albus pressed, snapping him from his train of thought. Jostling Newt, who again tensed. Silent tears grazing his cheeks as he bit his lips. Forming the words slowly, thinking hard about how he wanted to say them. Hoping they would be good enough for Albus whose eyes burned into him.

"It...It didn't hurt." He whispered. Met by a soft sigh of admiration and throaty chuckle from Albus, who kissed his head.

"There we are. Now, Newt, you must remember. If something hurts, then there's something wrong. However, if something doesn't hurt, then it's okay. Do you understand?"

Newt nodded again. Repeating the words in his own mind, despite the fact that they didn't make much sense to him.

_ If it doesn't hurt, then it's okay. _

_ If it doesn't hurt, then it's okay. _

_ If it doesn't hurt…then why does he feel so empty? _

  
  


*

  
  


"Mr. Graves, Professor Dumbledore will see you now." A voice said from beyond the door. Prompting Theseus to his feet. Shaking Percival roughly, until his eyes were open and a deep yawn escaped him.

_ Just a minute _ , Theseus mouthed.

"Just a minute." He repeated, confused and unsure as to what was happening.

_ Dumbledore _ . Theseus told him, helping him to his feet, where he stood, wobbly. Reaching for his flask, which Theseus swiped quickly. Shaking his head and wagging his finger at Percival, who waved him off and stumbled toward the door drowsily. Breathing in deep as he leaned against the wall and opened it. On the other side, stood an older woman. One who seemed a bit more lenient, and friendly than Mcgonagall had been.

"Hello, sir. My name is Alydia Holbrook." She extended her hand, and Percival took it. Surprised by the rather, firm grip she bore. Nodding and stepping out into the hall. Ensuring she was unable to peer into the room as he did. "Right this way." She told him, leading onward through this castle shaped maze, which he gazed at in wonder. How could anyone manage to find their way in this place. It was infinite, and intimidating. At least Ilvermorny had been a bit more modern. Easier to navigate in any case.

"If you don't mind my asking, who is Albus Dumbledore?" Percival questioned, delighted by the fact that she responded, without hesitation.

"He's one of our Transfiguration teachers. The best, I might add. Not to mention the most powerful wizard alive. Though no one quite believes that. He's rather modest about it." She told him. Peering back at the man who nodded. Unsure what to make of her claim. Surely, he wasn't the most powerful wizard alive. Perhaps in the top five at most, but Percival could hardly entertain the idea. Led down hall after hall until he was quite dizzy. Then left in a large, ominous room, which was entirely vacant.

"Where is-" he'd begun to ask. Turning back, only to see that Holbrook had already gone. So he stood in silence. Eyes wandering around the room. A number of banners hung loose from the walls. A large desk sat before him. Grandiose furniture littered the room.

He found himself worrying. Whoever's office this was, was either very important, or very rich. Both of which usually produced a rather pompous attitude. Something he wasn't exactly apt to dealing with. Not to mention his perpetual exhaustion. Sighing as he reached into the opposite pocket of his coat, retrieving his back-up flask, and taking a swig. Pausing mid-drink however, when he caught eye of a shadow. Quickly putting away his liquor and stepping toward it. Slow, and quiet as he approached a figure which sat shielded entirely by the wall beside the windowsill, where upon, they sat. Gazing out the window at the rain which had begun to fall.

Percival cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the boy, he could now see, who turned to him, though didn't look him in the eye. Rather, staring down at his shoes. Hands curling round his knees as he glanced hesitantly at the man.

"I take it, you aren't Albus Dumbledore." Percival said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Chuckling lightly, though quieting when the boy simply nodded.

"I'm Newt." He whispered. Turning again toward the window. Leaving Percival to stand in silence for several moments until coming to the conclusion that this was Newt Scamander. Foggy mind unable to focus entirely as his mouth formed a small 'o' and he began nodding. To no one, really, as Newt was no longer paying attention.

"I'm Percival." He said, "Percival Graves. I'm...well um...I'm a friend of Theseus'"

Newt recoiled instantly at the mention of his brother. Pressing himself tighter against the window. Shoulders scrunching up. Eyes watering, though Percival couldn't see that. Wondering instead, why Newt wasn't asking him any questions, or intrigued as to why he was there. Why he was just sitting there. Small and frail looking to the man who couldn't help but stare.

"He's uh, pretty worried about you...y'know." He tried, shifting awkwardly between feet as Newt rested his chin on his knees. Exposing what looked like a bruise near the bottom of his neck. Something Percival had the instinct to question, though before he had the chance, the door opened from behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Graves. I see you've met Newt." The man said, urging Percival to turn around. Greeted by blue eyes and red hair. He almost looked as though he could have been Theseus' uncle. 

"You must be Albus." Percival stated, extending his hand, before shaking his head and clarifying, "Dumbledore."

"You can call me Albus." The man told him, reciprocating the gesture and offering him a seat across from his desk. "I imagine you must be fairly apprehensive about all this. It was...rather unexpected. For both of us."

Percival nodded, falling back into a leathery cushion, which nearly swallowed him entirely. Far more buoyant than he had expected, taking a moment to collect himself as Albus continued.

"You see, roughly two months ago, Hogwarts security was breached. We have reason to believe that it was your partner, Th-"

"Pardon me, sir, but, what reason?" He questioned, startling the man who narrowed his eyes a bit at Percival. One brow raised as if he hadn't heard him correctly. As if implying he ought not ask him anything until he was done talking. Though Percival wasn't intimidated in the least. Years of near death experiences tended to do that to a man.

"What evidence do you have to base this accusation off of." He reiterated. Folding together his fingers and resting them in his lap. Head tilted as Albus' expression gave way to softer features which then risked a glance at Newt. Prompting Percival's eyes to follow. Puzzled, as he was unsure what Newt had to do with any of this.

"Well." He began, "The truth is, we have little more than an accusation. A victim." Gesturing to Newt, who didn't move to acknowledge that he was being spoken about.

"Now. All we need, is a witness." The man told him. Now gesturing to Percival who seemed lost. Pursing his lips and taking a moment to process what the man was saying, and what he was implying. Had Theseus hurt Newt? How? And when? Two months ago, they were still on the battlefield. Side by side near every day. If Theseus had gone somewhere, he'd have been the first to know. Though, he supposed that's why Albus had asked for him. 

"A witness?" Percival said, "A witness to what?"

"Well, I'm certainly not implying that you saw what happened. Nor that you would attempt hiding it. I simply need to know if Theseus Scamander has an Alibi for the night of December third."

Again, Percival was stunned. How was he supposed to remember that far back? How was he supposed to pull apart the days and nights which all looked the same, due to the perpetual cloud of ash which fogged over the battlefield. He could barely tell up from down most times. There was no possible way for him to remember any day in particular enough to say whether Theseus had been there or not.

"I don't remember." He said. Glancing back and forth between the two. Fixated on the deflated, and disappointed attitude given to him by Albus who sighed and murmured, "I thought as much. Nevertheless, I'd like you to stay at Hogwarts as my personal guest. Hopefully, we can spark some memories in that time, and if not, I suppose it's back into the fray."

Albus stood, prompting Percival to follow, which he did. Though still confused and utterly bamboozled by this turn of events. So it was Newt? Accusing Theseus of something serious enough to warrant a trial, and the need for a witness. And Albus, Theseus had made him out to be devil incarnate, and yet from what Percival had seen, he seemed to be nothing of the sort. Just a normal man, with a deep concern for his students. However, Theseus was the one he trusted. Not Dumbledore. So he'd stick by Theseus' side. Even if it didn't make any sense.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, what exactly is it that you think Theseus did?" He inquired. Met by hesitant blue eyes, that bobbed between him and Newt, who didn't react to the question in any way.

"He assaulted a student." Was all he said. Though the deep tone, and vague phrasing left Percival wondering what horrible deed had been done. And why they thought it was Theseus, who did it.

  
  


*

  
  


"Well?" He questioned, already pacing as Percival slipped through the door. Glancing back once more, ensuring they were alone before he sighed and responded.

"You might want to sit down." He warned. Crossing his arms and gesturing to the bed which Theseus gravitated toward instantly. Pleading eyes peering up at Percival, who was already dreading this conversation. Leaning back against the wall beside him as he pursed his lips.

"They...well, you aren't going to like this."

"Just tell me."

"They think you broke into Hogwarts...and…"

"And?"

"Assaulted a student."

Theseus furrowed his brows. Unsure how anyone could have come to that conclusion, nor how they had enough evidence of an event he was certain  _ never happened _ to call for a witness. And why go after Theseus at all. It's not as if he were around to cast a shadow over Dumbledore's plans, whatever they may have been. Nothing made sense, and it was really beginning to piss him off.

"Who?" He questioned. Darkened eyes flicking up to Percival who pressed his lips together. Cheeks puffing out as if attempting to hold it in. Admittedly afraid of how Theseus might react.

"Newt." He breathed out. Head drooping as he waited for his friend to speak.

"Newt?" He questioned. Breathy and weak. As if the mere concept pained him. Hand instinctively crawling up his chest. Clutching his heart as it pounded at the sound of his brother's name. Instantly filled with the urge to protect him, to save him from whoever had truly hurt him. Because Merlin knew Theseus would have cut off his own hands, before ever using them to harm his baby brother. He would bite off his own tongue, before saying a cross word to him. Theseus was the one person he was certain, would  _ never _ hurt Newt. The mere thought was almost laughable.

"Why...why would he say that?" He questioned. Met by a small shrug. Peering up at Percival who had retrieved the flask Theseus had taken, and was now drinking from it liberally. He really did hate civilian life.

"Newt seemed pretty traumatized." He told him. Clearing his throat and wandering toward the window. Gazing out at the rain which pelted the glass with large, merciless drops.

"Newt?" Theseus said, "Newt thinks I hurt him? How could he...why would he ever think that I could...that I would be capable…" suddenly, he hardened, growling out Dumbledore's name through clenched teeth. Standing and pacing quickly toward the door.

"Theseus!" Percival called, rushing after him. Crashing against the wall, and grabbing his friend's shoulders. Holding him still as he glared murderously into his eyes.

"As much as I'd like to see you avenge your slandered name, if you go out there, how do I explain that I brought you with me? You...you have to be patient, ok? I'll...look I'll talk to Newt. Yeah?"

After several painfully silent, and intense minutes, Theseus let out a long, slow breath, which caused both to relax, if only minutely.

"Fine." He muttered. Shrugging off Percival's hands. Which he instantly retracted. Nodding as Theseus brushed past him. Sitting once more on the bed. Elbows rested on his knees, hands cupping his face. Trying not to think about that bastard, twisting Newt's mind. His perspective of Theseus. Almost angry at Newt for letting him. Though, Merlin knew Theseus couldn't stay mad at Newt for anything. 

Not even hating him.

  
  


*

  
  


"What did you think of him?" Albus asked, leaning back in his chair as he turned to Newt, who seemed as though a statue. Perfectly carved, perfectly still. Beautiful, as the light shone down upon a loose tuft of red curls.

"I rather liked him." He added, standing and slowly approaching the boy who hardly even breathed. Though, subtly shied away as Dumbledore's shadow grew over his head. Hands resting on the windowsill's edge. Leaning over Newt. Head drooping so he could take in a deep whiff of the boy who smelled something like pine trees and petrichor. 

"I think he might prove useful." He murmured, nuzzling gently into Newt's hair. "Though, unfortunately, it might require the employ of...undesirable methods."

That, got Newt's attention. Fragile, and confused eyes turning up to gaze into his mentor's. Speckled with innocence and misplaced trust. Far too focused on the seemingly out-of-place smile on Albus' face, to see the wand he lifted in the boy's periphery.

"Amourus Imperio." He said, wicked grin spreading from ear to ear as a soft glaze flooded through Newt's green eyes. Tinting them into an almost oceanic blue.

"Now, give us a kiss." He ordered. Watching hungrily as the boy's legs slipped from the windowsill. Resting on either side of him. Gentle features reaching up as Albus bent down. Smiling into the kiss Newt gave him. 

"Good boy." He said. Cupping Newt's face with proud hands. Fingers curling through his hair. Tilting his head back, kissing his jaw, then his neck.

"Do you remember what I told you about this?" He questioned, pulling away to look down into glazed eyes.

Newt nodded lightly. Dazed and breathy as he whispered the mantra he was trained to repeat.

"If it doesn't hurt...then it's okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm slowly decending into insanity, and I'm not sure that I care. Thanks for reading.


	7. It's Not Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Here we go. Oopsie doopsie. Sorry if this is a bit much for your fragile eyes. Guess I should have had that disclaimer at the begining. Eh.
> 
> This chapter ain't so bad. Just...y'know...well. Idk just read it.

Sometimes, Percival Graves wished he had never met Theseus Scamander. This brilliant, valiant, brash, and big-hearted fool, who had already dragged him into more than he could handle. His parents had been more than happy to send him overseas to fight the Germans. A fact which contributed to their pride, more than it did their love. Wizards were like that, he supposed. Far too preoccupied with status, and wealth, to be concerned about what they've done. He'd thought recovering from his parent's utter disregard of his well being, in the name of their own insecurities would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to deal with. And then, once he'd gotten to the war, he thought surviving it, would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to deal with. Though, what he found truly, found to be the most difficult task, was coming home. Trying to pretend he wasn't seconds away from losing it, everytime a door slammed, or he heard footsteps behind him. So he reached for his flask. Again. And again. And by the time he found himself standing outside of Dumbledore's office, he didn't know how he'd gotten there.

"Professor Dumbledore is in his class." A passing student told him, after he'd been stood, staring at it for several minutes. 

He didn't know what he was going to say to Newt. How he could explain that Theseus would never hurt him. How he could convince him to change his mind. Especially when he didn't know anything about him. No what he'd been through. Left instead to stand, staring, unsure what to do next.

"Do you know where I can find Newt Scamander?" He asked after a moment, to another passerby. Met by eyes that gradually widened, after taking in his sleek appearance.

"Are the rumors true?" They asked him, rushing to his side, as did a few others, startling him as he scratched nervously at the back of his neck.

"Did someone break into Hogwarts?" Another demanded.

Soon enough Percival found himself surrounded by young wizards keen on gossiping about Newt's sudden disappearance, and Leta's expulsion. None of which, Percival knew much about. Standing and sputtering gibberish as they eagerly awaited his responce.

"Back to class Children!" A familiar voice shouted, causing a symphony of groans and shuffling feet as the crowd slowly dispersed. Standing before him, was none other than Professor Mcgonagall. Eyes narrowing when she saw his relieved expression.

"It's you." She said through tight lips. Taking a few steps toward him as she continued, "I sincerely hope, Mr. Graves, that you do what's right. And not what Professor Dumbledore tells you to."

"Is he the head master?" Graves questioned. Peering down at the red headed woman, who scoffed mildly and looked him up and down.

"Certainly not. But he does have a reputation as the most powerful wizard alive, therefore, everyone falls at his feet."

She said this with such disdain that Percival could almost be mistaken that she hated him. Though, from what Theseus had told him, they had been best friends during his time at Hogwarts. And though Dumbledore had been rather arrogant and cocksure, Mcgonagall had been his favourite teacher.

"And you don't?" He found himself asking. Studying curiously, how her expression faltered. Softening as she averted her eyes and gazed forlorn down the corridor.

"No. I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore is no longer the man I once knew."

Before Percival could ask her what she meant, she quickly stormed off. Shouting at a few students that were lollygagging down the hall. Leaving him to stand just as confused and lost as he had been five minutes prior. Reaching for his flask, though pausing when he saw a boy standing halfway behind one of the many pillars. Staring at him.

Percival sighed and rubbed his forehead, "How long have you been standing there?" He questioned. Crossing his arms as the boy stepped toward him. Hugging his books tightly to his chest as he glanced down either end of the corridor.

"I didn't mean to intrude. It's just, I heard you were looking for Newt." He said. Piquing Percival's interest.

"Do you know where to find him?" He asked. Searching the boy's eyes until he nodded.

"This way." He whispered, leading Percival, who followed, despite the fact that he didn't know anything about this boy. He could have been lying just to get out of class, for all he knew.

"He gives me letters sometimes. Though I've only been able to send one. After that, Professor Dumbledore ordered that all mail be checked before it leaves the school."

"Why would he do that?" Percival questioned. Responded to by an unenthusiastic shrug.

"He's been imposing all sorts of rules lately. For school security, he says. I don't trust him though."

"Why not?"

At that, the boy paused, turning around to face him. Brows furrowed, obnoxious sneer giving his face a rather dumb looking expression. As if he were trying to make Percival's inquiry seem stupid.

"Have you met Professor Dumbledore?" He asked.

Scoffing, when Percival nodded.

"He's a total nob if you ask me. If he told me to stay away from Newt, I'd tell him where to stick it." He growled, turning back around and continuing.

"Why would he tell you that?"

Again, the boy shrugged, "That's what he's been telling everyone who comes looking for Newt."

Percival furrowed his brows. Unsure what to make of the boy's claims. Nor this supposed good-guy, bad-guy reputation Dumbledore had. Either they loathed him, or they worshipped the ground he walked on. So far, he hadn't found an in between. Apart from himself of course, but he was a stranger after all.

"His room's down the hall to the left." The boy told him. Pointing and nodding to the man, before slipping out into another corridor.

He took a deep breath and made his way toward the door. Pausing to knock, though taking the opportunity to take one last long swig from his flask. Staring down in confusion as the door opened for him. Slowly creaking open to reveal a large room, not much different than his own. Though there were a couple of chairs. In one of which, sat Newt. Facing the window, as he had been when they'd first met.

"Uh-um." Percival cleared his throat, "Mr.Scamander I-"

"Come in Mr. Graves." Newt told him. Louder, and more confident than he had been before. 

Put off, though not yet suspicious, Percival stepped forward. Glancing back and jolting when the door slammed shut behind him. Turning back around, only to see that Newt was now standing. Posture far more elegant than Theseus had ever described. He wore his uniform, as had been all the other students, apart from his robe. It was almost hard, not to admire how perfectly his clothes clung to his thin frame. Accentuating every feature.

Though it wasn't until Newt had turned around to face him, that he was truly taken aback. Theseus had always described Newt as more beautiful than he was handsome, but as Percival saw him now, he found the word 'beautiful' to be an understatement. He was strikingly, and strangely alluring. From his messy, and yet pristine crimson locks, to the large lips which seemed to rest in a perpetual pout. He didn't look much like Theseus. Apart from the red hair, and vaguely similar facial features. He was magnetic, perfect in every way, and as he looked at Percival, dead in the eyes, the man found himself stone cold sober.

"Did you need something?" He questioned, tilting his head curiously, as his fingers traced soft circles onto the cushion of the chair he'd been sitting on.

"I...uh...well, y'see…"

"Are you alright, Mr. Graves?" Newt inquired, taking a few small steps toward the man, who secretly prayed he would stay where he was. So delicate, and graceful as he moved. Percival instinctually averted his eyes. Gazing up toward the ceiling as the boy crept closer. Stopping, about a metre away.

"Yes. I'm fine. I just, came to ask you about...um...Theseus." He said. Folding his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth lightly from his heels to his toes. Nervous and utterly terrified, to be quite honest. Theseus would literally kill him, if he suspected any of the thoughts going through Percival's head.

"Oh…" was all Newt said, posture slouching a bit. Sulking backwards and away from Percival who was reluctant to watch him as he seated himself on the end of his bed. Eyes watering as he bowed his head and sat his hands limply in his lap. "He's all anyone wants to talk about." He muttered, voice cracking as he spoke. Something about him magnetizing Percival to his side.

"Even when he hurts me." He whispered, glancing up at the man who stared down sympathetically, though unsure as to what he should say.

"He uh...he hurts you?" The man asked, sitting down beside Newt, who nodded pitifully. Quiet sniffles slowly giving way to tears. Holding himself quietly, shying away from the man, as if afraid of how he might react to the boy's apparent weakness.

"He's a monster…" Newt breathed out. As if afraid of his own words. Falling against Percival, who fought valiantly with himself, until slowly draping his arms around Newt's small form. Rubbing his back soothingly. Resting his chin atop surprisingly soft hair. Tempted to run his hand through it, though refraining, as Newt cried softly.

"He used to hit me you know." Newt lied, fingers playing with the buttons of Percival's vest. "When I didn't let him touch me." He added, hand slowly dripping down to Percival's waist. Palm extending and grazing over the man's thigh. "Like this." He whispered. Making Percival squirm sheepishly as he rubbed hard against the thick fabric of the man's trousers. Percival shifted, clearing his throat, though entirely hesitant as to where this situation might lead him. Curious, though acknowledging not only that Newt was his best friend's brother. But also that he was almost a decade older than the boy. Listing off the reasons he should pull away, one after the other, though somehow, remained exactly where he was. Heart pounding in his chest as Newt shifted. Facing Percival now as his free hand began effortlessly unbuttoning his vest.

"He would take off my clothes." He murmured, reaching one leg over, straddling Percival's lap. Gazing down at the man who was too shocked and too taken with the boy to react. A helpless marionette in Newt's hands as he removed the vest altogether and pushed with both hands against Percival's chest. Not nearly strong enough to force him down, though the man obeyed without question. 

"He'd hold me down." He continued, each hand scaling Percival's arms, until he held his wrists high above his head. Stretched out over the man enough to be nose to nose with him. "And he'd kiss me." He finished, dropping delicate lips onto Percival's, who was hesitant to respond. Mentally screaming at himself that it wasn't right. That he should pick up Newt and set him in the chair by the window where he had been. To tell him what he had intended to tell him. To do, what he was supposed to do. But...he couldn't help it, slowly turning the boy over onto his back. Looming over him, though never once breaking the kiss. Hands conservatively placed on Newt's waist as the two made out for a considerable time. Then, against his better nature dragging Newt's sweater slowly up his sides. Admiring how the boy raised his hands above his head without hesitation. 

Resuming the kiss, once the garment had been removed. One hand now reaching up to cup Newt's long, slender neck. Rubbing the promise of a sharp jaw with his thumb, in slow, calculated strokes. Slow and delicate in all of his movements in a way that mildly confused Newt. Not that he was capable of doing anything but lying there, as he was told. Lanky arms wrapping around Percival's shoulders. One hand combing through the hair at the back of his neck. Limp, and nonreactive as he felt ginger hands wrestling with the clasp of his belt.

"Is this -- okay?" Percival asked between kisses. Pausing, as he waited for Newt's response.

"If it doesn't hurt, then it's okay." He said robotically. As if he were a doll, that when you pulled its string, that's all it had to say.

At hearing his words, Percival stopped. Sitting up and peering down at Newt who stared up at him in confusion. As if unsure as to what he'd done wrong.

"Who told you that?" The man asked. Watching Newt's unwavering expression. Pulling him upright when he didn't respond. "Newt, who told you that?" He asked again. When again he said nothing, Percival sighed deeply.

"Was it your parents?"

"No."

"Theseus?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Again, he said nothing. 

Percival scoffed lightly and peered up at the ceiling. He didn't have to say who. Somehow, he already knew, it had been Albus. Then turning to the boy who still seemed as though he didn't know what was happening. Why Percival had stopped. Placing his hands then on Newt's shoulders.

"Newt." He said, "Just because something doesn't hurt, doesn't mean it's okay. Do you understand that?"

Nothing.

"You have to want it, okay? If you don't want it, then it's not okay. Does that make sense?"

Suddenly, a shift. Something about him changed, only for a moment, a brief flicker in his eyes. Expression neutralizing as Percival stared at him. Waiting for him to give the man some kind of signal to indicate that his words were getting through.

"Newt." He tried, "Do you want me to touch you?"

Again, the boy faltered, as if unsure as to what kind of game Graves was playing. Thinking hard, as if it were a detrimental decision that were of life or death consequence. Several moments passed before it even occurred to him that he was shaking his head. Almost startled, when Percival removed his hands. Holding them up so that Newt could see that he had done so. 

"Then it's not okay." He reiterated. Voice soft, and reassuring. Though not soft and reassuring like Theseus. Or Dumbledore. It was  _ actually  _ soft, and reassuring. There was nothing behind it. No hidden yearning, no malicious intent. It was as though he'd had a revelation. Like he didn't know it was possible for someone who said they cared, to actually care. He felt as though everything he'd been told, up to that point, had been lies. Though, as quickly as that thought struck him, it vanished. Leaving an empty shell to stare blankly at Percival.

"Newt do you underst-"

"Will you testify against Theseus?" He asked in monotone. This, emotionless chime that left Percival speechless. Staring into eerily blank eyes. Brows furrowing. Theseus had always spoke of Newt's forest green eyes. The kind that fit him perfectly, given his affinity for nature, and creatures. 

Green. 

Not blue.

Percival reached down for his wand, only to remember that he'd left it on his bed. Then pursing his lips and tilting his head.

"Newt." He said carefully, "Can I see your wand?"

Without hesitation, the boy nodded and handed it to him. Sitting absolutely still as the man aimed it at him.

"Surgito." He said. Thrown backwards as the spell reflected from Newt, back into his wand. Shattering it and sending Percival flying.

He groaned, both startled and dumbfounded as he rose to his feet unsteadily. Staring wide eyed at Newt who hadn't responded. He was under a spell of some kind. A very powerful spell. The kind that even he couldn't undo. Stumbling back toward Newt, who sat still as a board.

"Newt…" He whispered, "What has he done to you?"

  
  


*

  
  


Theseus had never been a patient man. In fact, he tended to make his worst decisions, when forced to wait for something he had no patience for. Like now, cursing himself and his stupidity as he walked quickly down the steps to the courtyard. Aiming for the woods just beyond, where he assumed Newt would be hidden away. As was his brother’s normal tendency. To avoid human contact at all costs. Even if it got him in trouble. He couldn’t wait for Percival. He couldn’t wait for Dumbledore. He couldn’t wait for things to fix themselves. And he couldn’t wait for Newt. He needed him. He needed to apologize, even if he didn’t know what for. Anything, to repair what had been broken between them. He just wanted to make things right. And Percival had been gone for hours. Leaving Theseus to pace frantically throughout their room. Desperate and pleading to Merlin that at any moment Percival would walk through that door. When he didn’t, Theseus took matters into his own hands. 

“Newt!” He called quietly, trekking through forbidden grounds with reckless abandon. Barely even registering the vines and thorns that snagged his ankles, or hands at times as he searched. Calling fruitlessly for his younger sibling. Vigour, slowly leaving him as ten minutes passed. Then twenty. And soon, he was out of breath entirely, leaning against a tree stump, hands rested on his knees as tears prickled his eyes. Without Newt’s love, he would die. Without his adorant gaze, and trust, and most importantly, his forgiveness, Theseus wasn’t sure he’d have the will to live. 

Theseus couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Likely when he’d been a young boy and had scraped his knee. Or when Newt had been very sick at around the age of two, and his parents were discussing whether or not he would live. He remembered spending every night that year in Newt’s bed. Holding him and praying that if someone had to die, that it be him, and not his little brother. That may have been where it first began. His adoration for Newt. His need to love and protect him. Their parents hadn’t. How carelessly, how foolishly they’d spoken about Newt’s life. As if he weren’t even there.

“The Doctor said he might not make it.”

“What a pity.”

Theseus knew then that it was up to him. That no one else would love Newt as much as he did. That no one would protect him. This...blatant disregard Newt had faced all his life, for his awkwardness, for his skittishness, for his odd love of animals, Theseus was the only one who had never taunted him. Never teased him. Never thought or said a cross word. Because Newt was all he had. And Theseus, was all Newt had. But now...well...now, he had Dumbledore. This irrelevant sycophant whom Newt had only known for a few years. He had known Theseus all his life! How could he possibly choose a stranger over his own flesh and blood? But he wasn’t angry at Newt, no, he was angry at Dumbledore for having gotten into his head. For having muddled with his baby brother’s thoughts and opinions. 

Theseus couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but he figured losing the only thing he’d ever loved, was as good a reason as any. 

*

When he’d finished, he trudged lifelessly back to the castle. No motivation, no incitement. Nothing to give him any more energy than was necessary to walk. He was drained. Exhausted. Far too empty, to consider the consequences of being caught.

“Mr. Graves.” a voice said, prompting him to peer back over his shoulder at Professor Mcgonagall, who approached him briskly. Still with her astute posture and pensive stare. 

He brightened vaguely, turning to her with a desperate look in his eye as he asked her, “Please Professor, have you seen Newt?”

When she shook her head, his head drooped once more. Not bothering to look at her as she stood beside him. Studying his features and the way they shifted. Monotone, and yet filled with an unreconciled sorrow. She had come to berate him again. To remind him that she was onto Dumbledore’s schemes, but seeing him like this awoke something in her. 

“Mr. Graves.” She began waiting until he met her eye, “You aren’t here to help Dumbledore...are you?”

He shook his head, rage flickering behind the deep brown of his eyes. Revealing what she already knew.

“Well, in case you need reminding, I’ll tell you again. Theseus Scamander is a good boy.” She told him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders when he nodded numbly. Uncharacteristic gesture causing him to furrow his brows at her.

“The Theseus I know, is brave, even in the face of danger, and uncertainty. He doesn’t give up. Not for anything. He’s strong, and wise, and the smartest boy in the room, at any given time.” When he turned away she jostled him lightly, urging him to return her gaze. “But none of those, are reasons that I say he’s a good boy. He’s a good boy, because he has a good heart. And a good heart, always finds a way.”

Theseus nodded again, though this time, he bowed his head, tears brimming in his eyes. He wasn’t a good person. The things he had done for his own self gain. The things he had done in war. The killing, the fighting. The people he had hurt. Newt was the only person that made him feel even the slightest bit redeemable, and yet now...he hated him.

“Theseus Scamander, isn’t the ‘good boy’ you think he is.” He said softly. 

“No.” She agreed, “No I suppose you’re right.”

Several silent minutes passed, in which he deflated even more. As if little by little, he were disintegrating. Dust, in the slight breeze that brushed over them. Lifeless and dead looking, in a way. As if a walking corpse. And that’s how he felt. He’d lost his everything. 

“I can see now, that he’s grown into a good man.” She told him.

It took a moment for him to register her words. Brows furrowing slowly, as he glanced up at her. Unsure what to make of her claim as two warm hands cupped either side of his face.

“Truth be told Theseus, you called me ‘mum’ by accident too many times for me to remember. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you? I teach transfiguration, you know.”

At that, he breathed out a deep sigh and leaned into the hug she offered. Minerva was likely the closest thing Theseus had ever had to a mother. Well, a  _ real _ mother. His own was often cold, and distant. She was likely the only person in the world he trusted. Truly trusted, at least. 

“What do I do?” He asked lamely, in the voice of a child. Truly helpless. Lost; and in need of direction.

“When we find that we are troubled.” She began, “And the end is not in sight. A man must do but one thing...”

_ “And that, is what is right.” _

  
  


*

  
  


When Percival returned to his room, he was surprised to see a perfect reflection of himself staring back. Especially when there weren’t any mirrors to be found.

“Theseus, what have you done?” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stepped inside. Cringing more at the fact that Theseus should be asking him that question, than at the possibility of Theseus having revealed his true identity.

“I’m sorry, Percival.” He admitted, shedding his disguise and sitting down on the bed before the man, earning him a raised eyebrow and apprehensive gaze, “You’ve put your life on the line for me, and I’ve been a selfish bugger about it.”

Percival was almost too shocked to feel guilty. That Theseus would apologize for anything. Especially when he was always certain that he was right. Strictly a believer in the mind-set that he could do no wrong. So this sudden turn around raised a little more than a few red flags. Still, Percival knew he was only focused on why Theseus was apologizing so that he wouldn’t have to focus on the fact that he had very nearly slept with his brother. Standing in absolute silence for several minutes until saying, “Thank you, Theseus. I appreciate it.” Then falling back onto the bed beside him as he thought up the best way to explain his predicament. 

“Newt’s under a spell.” He said bluntly. Squeezing his eyes shut and preparing for the inevitable meltdown from Theseus who did nothing but nod, much to his surprise. Peering curiously through squinted eyelids at his friend who sat, perfectly calm.

“I tried breaking it, but...well I think Dumbledore must have cast it, ‘cause I couldn’t.”

Still, Theseus nodded. Secretly seething, though doing his best to remain calm. For Newt. They weren’t bound to get anywhere if he couldn’t keep his head on his shoulders. He had to be smart, and wise, and brave like Minerva had said. He wanted to prove her right. That he hadn’t failed her. Even if deep down, he felt he had.

“Also, I may have kissed him.”

Theseus had never been perfect. He’d never even tried to be, and he often found fault with himself for that. It wasn’t until Minerva told him that perfection wasn’t the goal, it was being the best he could be, that he even believed that he had a chance at being who he wanted to. An auror, with the righteous authority and duty to protect all wizards and-

‘Wait...what did you say?”

*

  
  


_ Most tend to be far littler,  _

_ Than the sum of all their parts, _

_ As most think with their envy, _

_ Instead of with their hearts. _

_ For most, the fame and glory, _

_ Can’t come near fast enough, _

_ But fame and glory mean little, _

_ To the House of Hufflepuff. _

_ When we find that we are troubled, _

_ And the end is not in sight, _

_ A man must do but one thing, _

_ And that is what is right. _

_ -Helga Hufflepuff _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh....
> 
> Huh....
> 
> Yeah....
> 
> Alright....
> 
> *me proofreading*


	8. Do You See What I See?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist, blah blah blah, cliff hangar.
> 
> That's about it.

Albus sat at his desk, combing through a mess of papers. Dull, and uninterested as he leaned with one elbow against the arm of his chair. Holding his face with one hand. Eyes tracing the cursive words written on miscellaneous sheets of parchment. Sighing deeply as he flicked one after another into their designated piles. Pausing momentarily when he heard a gentle knock at the door.

"Come in." He called. Glancing up, smiling when he caught eye of Newt. "Hello, Darling." He said, brightening as the boy approached. Stepping out from behind his desk to meet him halfway across the room. One hand in his pocket as the other brushed knuckles against the boy's speckled cheek.

"What was the verdict?" He questioned. Admiring how Newt gazed at him lovingly. Even if it wasn't real. It didn't really matter to him. As long as he did as he was told.

"He said 'no'." He responded. Unfazed by the abrupt change in Albus' demeanor. The way he hardened. The way his smile slipped slowly from his face. Glaring now at Newt who didn't seem to realize he had displeased the man.

"Why?" He growled. Retracting his hand as if Newt had tried to bite him. Frowning deeply, air darkening around them. "All you had to do was lie there." He spat, pacing angrily before the boy who said nothing. "Did you refuse him? Do something he didn't like?" He was yelling now. Casting a quick spell to soundproof the room. Barking mercilessly at Newt, demanding he had done something wrong. Pausing only, when he heard a weak snivel. Turning to Newt who was crying, despite his blank expression. Deeper, subconscious emotions seeping through the powerful grip of the spell.

Softening as he stepped toward him. Peering into blue eyes that were incredibly intriguing. He had seen many powerful wizards attempt to resist his charms. None had ever shown any sign of breaking through. Of  _ actually _ resisting it. Something that made him slightly wary. Wondering if Newt would remember this, once he had removed the incantation. If he did, of course he could always obliviate him, but that was a last resort option. There were bound to be too many questions, which he was reluctant to answer.

"I'm sorry, Newt." He said, hands resting on either side of the boy's neck, "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It just...it makes me sick, to think that Theseus might get away with what he's done."

He whipped up some fake tears at that. Allowing them to pool in his eyes, enough to be noticed. Watching Newt's internal emotions die down, behind his eyes. Continuing to slather him with honey as the boy stared at him.

"From the moment I first met you, I knew you were this innocent...naive...perfect little thing. And the idea of someone taking advantage of you…" He bit his lip and glared at the ground, "It's utterly despicable."

When he felt as though Newt had been sated, he slowly removed his hands and wandered back to his desk. Glancing once or twice to his protege, who hadn't moved. Awaiting further instruction from Albus, who wasn't quite sure what to do. He could always put a hex on Percival too. Control him from behind the scenes. But a nullified, empty eyed man raised more suspicion than a boy. In fact, it made the whole thing a bit more believable, for Newt to be this...blank. Malleable. Entirely traumatized. Though for Percival, he supposed another spell might do the trick.

"Newt." He said suddenly, gesturing for the boy to come toward him. Retrieving his wand and aiming it at one of the bookshelves. "The next time you see Mr. Graves, I want you to find somewhere to be alone with him, do you understand?" Newt nodded, "Right, and then I want you to cast this spell...well, get your wand out, we haven't got all day."

When Newt didn't move, Albus found himself near ready to slap him. To shake him or throw him across the room. Anything to get rid of that dullard expression. Tapping his foot and crossing his arms as he waited for the boy. When instead he stood in silence, Albus rushed forward and began searching through his pockets. Trying to find a wand that wasn't there.

"It broke." Newt reported in monotone, nonreactive to the bewildered gaze he was given, as Albus paused.

"It broke? How did it --" He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes, "Nevermind. It doesn't matter. I have a spare."

He led Newt to his desk. Rummaging through one drawer, then the next, until retrieving an eerily familiar wand. Placing it in Newt's palm and stepping around him. Leaving the boy to stare down at it. A sleek wooden wand which was rather plain looking. Simple, without any grand design. The very same one...that Theseus had refused. The one from his first year. The one from Ollivander's. The one that had been chosen and bought for him by some mysterious stranger who'd left nothing behind but the initials A.D.

Albus Dumbledore.

Newt's brows furrowed. Mind reeling as he tried to comprehend it. Somehow...Albus knew him before Hogwarts. He had chosen him, beforehand and that must have meant he planned...everything he did...to Newt. 

_ from the moment I first met you in my class, I knew you were special _ , He'd said.

_ From the moment I first met you, I knew you were this innocent...naive...perfect little thing.  _ He'd said.

All lies.

But...it couldn't have been. Dumbledore wouldn't have lied to Newt. He was the only one who cared about Newt. He had protected him all this time.

Right?

"Newt." He demanded, urging the boy to turn to him.

"Come here." He ordered. Harsh and unforgiving, until Newt shifted to stand beside him. Wand held at the ready, just the same as Albus.

"Right. Now, the next time you see Mr. Graves, I want you to cast this spell.  _ Amourus Crucio _ ." He said, "It will make him hopelessly infatuated with you. Then, once he's had his way with you, he'll be forced to testify. There'll be no other way to clear his name. Do you understand?"

Something in Newt grew cold. Skin paling. Limbs numbing. Heart dropping, stomach sinking. 

_ Once he's had his way with you. _

Against his will? Like Newt was now? Abiding the man's every word without question, due to this...damned curse.

_ It will make him hopelessly infatuated with you. _

Like…

_ No. _

_ Oh no. _

_ Oh Merlin no. _

_ Like...Theseus? _

"Newt?" Dumbledore grumbled, "Are you paying attention? Now. Amourus Crucio. Say it. If you say it you'll remember-"

"How do you know that spell?" Newt questioned smally. Startling Albus, who glanced down at him. Shrugging off the question casually. Answering dully, as if using discarded words.

"I've used it once or twice." He murmured. Focusing his attention now on his wand as Newt stared at him. 

"On Theseus?" He inquired. Almost afraid of how immediate Albus' reaction was. Eyes flicking to him. Wide and piercing. As if he dared question his mentor. Lowering his wand slowly and turning to face Newt entirely. Narrowing his gaze and stepping forward. As if daring the boy to accuse him again.

"What was that? Darling?" He growled out. Putting Newt in his place. Reminding him, who of the two of them, was considered the most powerful wizard alive. 

"You made him...you made him  _ rape _ me." He whispered. Terrified of those words as they escaped him. Eyes fluttering between green and blue, until settling with his natural colour. Tears flooding his eyes as he began to hyperventilate. Panicking and utterly horrified that  _ Albus _ had been the true culprit.

With a deep sigh, Albus shed his anger and flicked his wand at Newt. Binding his wrists and ankles. Then dragging him to the chair behind his desk, which he then enchanted. Forbidding Newt from rising without his permission.

"You're far too clever for your own good, Newt." He said carelessly. Sitting on his desk as he gazed down. Head tilted, studying the boy.

"I admit, when I gazed into the future, and I saw that it was you, who defeated me…" He chuckled wryly, "I was, shall we say, a little more than shocked. I mean,  _ you _ of all people. This pathetic, weak, sniveling child? No. I couldn't have that."

He stood. Meandering slowly around the room. "You know Newt, I admire a number of your qualities. Your desperation. Your blind trust. Your naivety." he continued, "For these are the very same qualities that I aim to find in all my followers."

Newt watched him. Confused. Puzzled by enigmatic words, and this sudden shift of character, "Followers?" He murmured quietly. Drawing Albus' attention as the man turned and grinned at him.

"Oh, Darling. Surely by now you've figured it out."

When Newt continued to stare at him, bewildered, he sighed. "Very well." He stated, waving his wand gracefully. Shedding his facade to reveal a man with slick white hair, and pale, almost-colourless skin. Not to mention a pair of strikingly familiar mismatched eyes. 

One brown.

One blue.

Gellert Grindelwald. Newt had heard of him. Brief murmurs here and there. He was a criminal. A murderer as far as he knew. Though far worse than words could describe, to Newt who couldn't believe he had been fooled. Trembling now as the man peered down at him. Eyes playing at a sort of sympathy, attempting to fool Newt who struggled pointlessly. 

"Wh-what are you talking about?" He asked softly. Wondering why exactly Gellert Grindelwald of all people thought he posed a threat of any kind. Past or future tense. Confident, he had the wrong Scamander. Newt wouldn't hurt a fly. Even now, knowing what Grindelwald had done to him; lied to him, broken him, manipulated him, he wouldn't have the heart to take vengeance. Almost, angry at himself for that thought.

"A revolution." Grindelwald narrated, continuing to pace beside the boy, occasionally glancing down, if only to make sure he still retained Newt's attention. "The rise of wizards in the muggle world. The superior breed. I will bring about this change. Or at least I would, if not for a certain pestering hero. If not, for  _ you _ ."

"Are you going to kill me?" Newt blurted. Near frantic, as Grindelwald stopped altogether. Furrowing his brows at Newt, approaching him slowly.

"Kill you?" He murmured, "No Newt...I would never kill you."

He reached out with a deceptively kind hand. Reminiscent of what Newt once thought to be love. Tracing his cheek thoughtfully. Eyes full of something like sorrow, or sympathy. Then pulling away and turning his back.

"It would be a waste of a perfectly good wizard." He stated. Glancing back at Newt who hardly knew how to process any of this. "No. I had hoped to recruit you. For you to be my partner. My shining example of what my followers would strive to be.." He paused and shook his head with dismay, "It's hard to admit, Darling, that you've disappointed me."

There was a long silence, one in which Newt breathed heavily. Trying hard to fathom and to recover from the first blow. Then the next. Recovering from Gellert's words, far slower than he had spoken them.

"However, my love, redemption is at hand. For if you will not join me willingly…" he smiled wickedly. Aiming his wand at Newt who froze entirely.

"I have no problem, with slaves."

  
  


*

  
  


"Theseus I'm sorry." Percival tried, stepping backward, warily from his friend, "I didn't mean to...it-it just sort of happened."

"It just happened." He repeated, in absolute, eerily calm monotone. As if he were simply stating a fact, and nothing more. "Tell me Percy, how did it just  _ happen _ ."

"Not that it makes a difference, but he kissed me first. I didn't figure out that he was under a spell until…"

"Until what?"

When Percival hesitated, clearing his throat and staring at the ground, Theseus stood. Walking toward him slow, and steady. And though they were nearly the same height, he seemed to tower over Percival who shrunk with guilt. Not only for having gone behind Theseus' back, but giving in to his urges before making absolutely certain that it was alright with Newt. He should have known. Paid more attention. He'd have never even touched Newt if he'd known he was under a spell. 

"Until what?" Theseus repeated. Glaring now at Percival who could hardly match his gaze. 

"Until I stopped." He murmured. Glancing at Theseus who furrowed his brows. Genuinely concerned.

"Why did you stop?" Was what he asked.  _ How _ did you stop, is what he wanted to instead. After all, it took every ounce of energy he had, just to let go of Newt whenever he had the privilege of holding him. It was like he was being torn in two every time they parted. Though, he had grown accustomed to that. He'd known him all his life. It was amazing to him, astonishing really, that anyone could resist Newt, at least in  _ his _ mind. He didn't blame Percival for giving in. For kissing him, or holding him, even if it made Theseus green with envy. Rather, he couldn't understand how Percival  _ stopped _ at kissing him, or holding him. Especially if Newt egged it on. If he was under a spell and entirely vulnerable. Theseus himself would never even dream about taking Newt against his will, but he didn't have much faith in anyone else  _ not to _ .

"I wanted to make sure he...well...I just wanted to know if he really...wanted it." Percival explained, unsure exactly how to phrase it. He didn't know many men that did that. Usually, when someone came onto them, like Newt had, they'd have lept at the opportunity without a thought in their mind. Which, technically he had done, at first. But he felt...wrong somehow...when in general, the people he got intimate with didn't ask for it first, and he just assumed the answer was yes.

Theseus was shocked by his words. Not in an angry, or apprehensive way, but rather, a calm...somewhat impressed way. Like Percival had proven himself to be a better person than Theseus thought he was. Which was true, to an extent. He'd only seen and interacted with Percival on the battlefield. During war. Never in the civilian world, where drama like this occured. He didn't quite know how Percival would handle it, but Theseus was pleasantly surprised. Thankful even, that it had been Percival, and no one else. He wasn't sure he trusted anyone else to keep their hands off of Newt.

"Oh." Was all he said at first. Wanting to be angry. Wanting to yell, or threaten Percival for daring to lay a hand on his brother, but the words just...didn't come. So he, instead, relaxed a bit. Stepping back from Percival slightly. Removing a smidge of the tension. 

"Oh?" Percival murmured. Expecting Theseus to Avada Kedavra his ass. But nothing happened. Instead, they both stood in silence. Watching one another, even if their gazes were fixed on the floor.

"How do we break the spell?" Theseus questioned, moving on abruptly as he turned away and walked toward the window. Out of which, he peered curiously at the surrounding constructs. Waiting for Percival to recover, which took a moment.

"Right. Well, I suppose we could confront Dumbledore, and perhaps force him to remove the spell. But if the rumors are true...I'm not sure we'd stand a chance. Other than that, I haven't the faintest idea."

"Do you think we can take him?" Theseus asked. Glancing over his shoulder at Percival who debated quietly with himself. Weighing their abilities and joint magical prowess.

"I...well I suppose we might. Though if we lose…"

"There's no telling what he'll do to Newt."

Percival nodded, and there was a long silence. 

"Perhaps Minerva can help." Theseus said, turning around to face puzzled features.

"Minerva?"

"Sorry, Professor Mcgonagall." He corrected. Strutting past Percival toward the door. "Wait here." He ordered, transfiguring into his friend, who watched him exhaustively as he slipped out into the hall.

"Sure thing." He said to an empty room, "Guess I'll just...take a nap then."

  
  


*

  
  


Theseus searched for several long hours. Wading through halls. Brushing past students who berated him with questions and inquiries in pertinence to Newt. Gossiping already, with what conspiracies their small minds could concoct. It was hard to ignore them. Even harder still, given the way they spoke about his brother. As if he were some kind of freak. A magnet for trouble. Like the rumors they shared about him were made merely out of a need for entertainment, and not out of concern. He supposed compassion was a lot to ask from such young, foolish children, but he couldn't help but hate them and their words.

When at last, he found her, however, she was already engaged in conversation with Professor Holbrook. A Slytherin teacher, he knew, though he wasn't quite sure what it was she taught.

"Professor Mcgonagall." He said. Approaching them slowly. Masking the urgency, and desperation in his voice which secretly crept through nonetheless. Cueing her in as to the importance of what he wanted to tell her.

"Mr. Graves." Both women said in unison. Nodding to him as he joined the pair.

"I hate to bother you ladies, but if I could have a word with Min- Professor Mcgonagall…"

"Oh, certainly." Holbrook said, smiling as she glanced between the two and nodded. Walking in the opposite direction until out of sight, where she ducked behind a nearby pillar. Watching the two as they tucked themselves in a nearby corner and conversed quietly.

"A spell?" Minerva exclaimed, quickly hushed by Percival, who Alydia narrowed her eyes at suspiciously. Flattening quickly against the wall when he made a quick sweep of their surroundings. 

"Sonorio…" She whispered, holding her wand to her ear as it flared out into a sort of horn shape. Listening intently as the two spoke discreetly.

"I suppose, you could reverse the spell with the caster's wand...but Theseus…"

_ Theseus? Theseus Scamander? What was he doing at Hogwarts? _

"Are you sure it was Dumbledore?"

_ Oh no _ . She thought, apparating quickly down the hall in the direction of Albus' office. Heels clicking feverishly against the cobblestones underfoot. Smiling smally at how useful this would prove her to be. For too long she had lurked in the shadows. A witch more powerful than she was ever given credit for. This, would instantly promote her through the ranks of her master's armada. Perhaps she might even become his general. His right hand woman? Oh how delightful. Then she could leave this damned school, full of simple minded fools. She could show the world her greatness, magic and muggle alike. She would be like a goddess to them. Once the world was theirs, once they had conquered every nation on the planet, then they'd see how all-powerful Albus Dumbledore  _ really _ was.

Would he be powerful enough to stop them?

To reverse the damage they had done?

She thought not.

"Professor Dumbledore." She said excitedly, knocking with a shaking hand once or twice before stepping through the door. Shutting it quickly behind her.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't mean to intrude but-" she paused, taken aback by the sight laid before her. Pausing and glancing around carefully, unsure what to make of the situation. Newt stood, wand in hand, glaring at her. Darker, and more aggressive than she remembered. Hand hovering beside her wand cautiously as the pair eyed one another for nearly an entire minute.

"Ah. Alydia." Gellert said, stepping out from behind his desk. Creeping up slowly behind Newt, who didn't move. Passing him carelessly to stand before her. "Ignore him." He told her, "He's harmless. Isn't that right, Darling?" 

With little more than a glance over his shoulder, Newt sheathed his wand and meandered toward one of the leather chairs. Seating himself without a word.

"Has he...joined us?" She questioned, met by a tempered chuckle, and shake of the head. 

"Unfortunately, Newt here is quite resilient. I had to resort to...other...methods." With that, he wandered to the window. Hands held behind his back. Posture slouching a bit. Acting more in line with himself than Albus, who he had been impersonating for some time now. A task, which she knew weighed on him quite a bit. Imitating an enemy was difficult. Imitating a past lover, well that was in an entirely different league of its own.

"I still don't understand why you don't just kill him." She huffed. Standing with crossed arms behind the curly headed boy who didn't react to her statement.

"If I killed everyone who opposed us, this would be more of a genocide than a revolution wouldn't it, dear?" Gellert murmured, glancing at her before adding, "What do you want?"

"It's Mr. Graves, Sir. Well, actually, it's Theseus. He's impersonating him, sir, and somehow he knows about…"

"Theseus Scamander is here?" He interrupted, furrowing his brows as he turned to face her. Puzzled more so than angry. He had far more restraint than Gellert had given him credit for. If it had been him, when at first they'd met. Seeing Newt. Hearing the accusations made against him. Remaining calm under fire, giving no indication whatsoever, that he wasn't who he said he was. In fact, Gellert found himself mildly impressed. He could use someone like Theseus on his side. And with Newt under his thumb, he didn't anticipate that being too difficult.

"Yes, sir." She replied, "And they're onto you."

He gave her a murderous glare. No. Not yet. They couldn't discover him so soon, he still had much to do. Students to corrupt, minds to bend, recruits to recruit. They couldn't unravel him so soon. He found himself then glancing at his prize. Even if they did stop him, at least he had Newt.

"I'm sorry, sir, I misspoke. They're onto Professor Dumbledore." She clarified, averting her eyes. Shifting nervously as the man studied her, uninterested. Rolling his eyes and facing the window.

"Very well. Do what you can to postpone the inevitable." He told her. Smiling wickedly over his shoulder at Newt, who returned his gaze emotionlessly, "I have an idea."

  
  


*

  
  


"What did she say?" Percival asked, watching as Theseus slipped through the door. Transfiguring back into himself as he removed his coat and tossed it onto the bed beside Graves who continued to stare at him.

"We need his wand." Theseus told him. Breathing deeply, hands on hips. Rubbing his jaw as he contemplated the impossibility of their task.

"Well that'll be pretty difficult, considering I shattered it." Percival retorted, sighing as he peered up at the ceiling, wondering what other option they had.

"Not Newt's." Theseus stated, "Dumbledore's."

Percival's eyes flicked to him instantly, confusion and utter horror riddled across his features as his lips pulled up into something like a sneer, "And how on Earth are we supposed to do that?" He questioned, rubbing his temples instinctively.

"I have no idea." Theseus admitted. Shaking his head at the floor. Sinking against the wall beside the door. Arms resting on his knees. Stealing a wand was one thing. Stealing a wand from Albus Dumbledore was another. The man never slept. All he ever did was walk around like the pompous prod he was, grade papers, and teach class. There was never a moment in which he wouldn't have his wand. Not to mention that once they had it, he wouldn't have any other suspects. Well, suspect, considering Percival was the only intruder he knew of. 

"Maybe…" Percival began, gathering Theseus' hopeless attention, "Maybe we can convince Newt to help?"

"He's under a spell." Theseus reminded bluntly.

"True, but when I asked for his wand, he just handed it to me. He didn't question it, or hesitate. What if all we have to do, is ask?"

Theseus contemplated his plan. Weighing the pros and cons. Even if Newt did agree, Albus would surely just ask for his wand back, and based on what Percival had just said, Newt would be inclined to obey. It wasn't very practical, and yet something in him told him it was the only way. Though, that is to say, it was the part of him that wanted nothing more than to be in Newt's presence. So he knew he couldn't exactly trust it, but...what choice did they have?

"Alright." Theseus said, standing alongside Percival who seemed worried. Anxious about meeting Newt again. Given their last...interaction.

"We'll split up." Theseus told him, throwing on his coat as he transfigured back into Percival who didn't have enough time to object, before Theseus was out the door, sprinting down the corridor. 

_ Great _ . He thought  _ Let's hope this place is big enough for the both of us. _

Without a moment's hesitation, he found himself running in the opposite direction of his friend. Tempted to reach for his flask, and yet, he knew for this particular mission, it was best that he was sober. 

Even if he didn't really want to be.

*

It wasn't long until one of the two Percival Graves racing through the halls of Hogwarts stumbled upon the younger Scamander, who walked in front of them. Unmistakable red hair and hunched shoulders eliciting a sigh of relief, and anticipation.

"Newt." They said, slowing to a brisk strut as the boy turned slowly around. Urging them to stop altogether, as they studied him. He looked exactly the same. Just as pale, and freckled, and beautiful as he would be any other day. But something just seemed different.

No.

Something seemed  _ wrong _ .

"Newt…" They said again, quieter this time. Resolve weakening, taking a step back when Newt slowly raised his wand.

"Newt." They said once more. Barely audible now. Eyes widening as the words rolled off his tongue. Monotone, seemingly without even the faintest idea as to the gravity of his words. 

"Avada Kedavra." Newt said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, my house got struck by lightning the other day.
> 
> Anyway. Hope you enjoyed. Will probably post daily now, I don't know yet. 
> 
> In the meantime, have fun you crazy kids.


	9. Who Won?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here comes the end. Lots and lots of things. Might be a cliff hangar in there, I don't know. Don't ask me, I'm just the author.

Theseus hated parties. At least, the ones his parents threw. He couldn't condone the company they kept. Rich, pureblood wizards that did nothing but brag about their accomplishments and complain about the Ministry and its policies. And though his mother was an excellent cook, food alone, wasn't enough to sway him. Therefore, he remained in his room. Studying, as he told his parents. His excuse, for the night, which neither had a problem with. They'd likely brag about his high marks and aspirations of becoming an Auror. Their good son. Their own personal prodigy. They likely wouldn't even acknowledge Newt, whom guests were bound to ask about anyway. And they would dance around the subject, refusing to answer. He couldn't stand that either. 

Normally, he wouldn't bother going down. Even if his father entered one of his normal rants. About how the Ministry ought to enforce their rules better. That once  _ his  _ son entered the equation, things would change. However, when his father paused, mid-way through his tantrum over weak leadership, Theseus knew something was wrong. Glancing confusedly at the clock above his desk which read nine o'clock. Newt's curfew. Well, technically, it was eight, but he lost track of time so often that he almost always came home late. So Theseus stood. Knowing Newt had something to do with the sudden quiet. Rushing out the door stealthily and creeping down the stairs. Listening intently to the soft murmurs beyond.

"Newton, we have guests." Their father muttered. Giving Newt his pensive, insulted glare he so often gave him. As if his mere existence were a plague upon their house. Shooing the boy away toward the stairs, where Theseus waited. Brows furrowing upward in an expression of sympathy. Staring down at his little brother, who was slathered in mud, scraped knees dripping thin trails of blood. Face downturned, shoulders bobbing as he sniveled quietly. Soft, red rimmed eyes peering up slowly at Theseus, who was in such a state of shock, that he could barely register the boy's cries. Suspended in disbelief as Newt crept up the stairs, crumbling in his arms.

"Newt…" Theseus whispered, sitting beside his brother, holding him as tight as he could. Rubbing his shoulders soothingly, "What happened baby?"

Newt didn't respond. Too distraught to do anything but sulk in his brother's arms. Crying into his chest. Small hands clinging to him in desperation. Needing release from whatever pain he was feeling.

"C'mon luv, let's get you washed up." He said, slipping one arm under Newt's knees. Picking him up slowly, carrying him bridal style up the steps and into the bathroom. Sitting him down on the edge of the tub. Kneeling before him. Staring up at red mottled cheeks. Fingers gently cupping Newt's face. Thumb grazing his cheek. Brushing away tears that had yet to cease.

"What's wrong baby?" He asked again. This time leaning forward. Pressing his forehead against Newt's. Whispering it so delicately, that the boy barely heard it. Quiet, and nonthreatening, which Theseus had come to find, was the only real way of break through to Newt.

When he said nothing still, Theseus fell back on his haunches. Sighing and biting his lip as he instead began untying Newt's shoes. Pulling off one after the other. Then followed by his socks. Thumbing tenderly at the crimson streaks. Glancing up at Newt, who didn't move. Clinging to Theseus once more as the older boy leaned over him to turn on the faucet. Pausing and holding the boy, who didn't seem as though he'd ever let go. 

They stayed that way for several minutes, until Newt had stopped sobbing. All the while, Theseus had slathered him with reassuring coos and gentle rubs down his shoulder blades and back. Soft and slow. Calming.

"I'll get you a change of clothes, sweetheart." Theseus murmured after a while, kissing Newt's neck gently, before attempting to pry himself from his brother's grip. Kissing Newt's forehead, feeling small grains of dirt against his lips as he pulled away. Turning on the faucet, testing the water, and then slipping out the door. Rummaging through Newt's wardrobe until finding a suitable pair of pyjamas. Then returning to find his brother exactly where he left him. Sighing again as he placed the folded clothes on the sink. Then aiding a stiff, and quite terribly cold Newt out of his outfit. Settling him into the tub once he'd been stripped.

Theseus sat beside him, rolling up his sleeves and reaching across the boy for a sponge. Then gesturing for Newt to put his leg up. Offering it to Theseus, who scrubbed gently. Starting at his ankles as he glanced hesitantly at his brother.

"What happened, Newt?" He asked. No urgency in his voice. No demanding. Only concern. He wasn't nearly as overprotective then, as he is now. Though it killed him to see his younger brother in such a state of disarray, it didn't send him into a rage, as it soon would. 

"I tried to catch him." Newt whispered. Sniffing quietly, and rubbing his nose, "He was falling, and-and I tried to catch him. I really did Thee…"

"I believe you, luv." Theseus said. Firm, and honest. Waiting patiently for the younger to continue.

"But I was...I was too late. And he was hurt Thee. I tried to help him, I tried to…" Newt cupped his hands together in front of him. Staring down at them as if there were some helpless creature cradled in his grip. More tears came as he attempted to explain. About how this Wauk, a small fragile creature had fallen from the tree he'd attempted to climb. About how it was Newt's fault because he knew this Wauk was special. It's claws were exceptionally small. Stunted. Not at all fit for climbing. And yet Newt had promised to be there, to catch it, if it fell. But he'd tripped. He'd tripped and scraped his knees and was only a second too late to catch him. About how this creature had died in Newt's hands.

"It wasn't your fault." Theseus told him. Dropping the sponge and taking hold of Newt's hand. Commanding his attention.

"It rained recently. The trees were wet. I should have known better." He whispered. Refusing to meet Theseus' eye.

"It wasn't your fault." He repeated, grip firming. Gently jostling the boy's hand. Urging him to look into Theseus' eyes. To know that he was telling him the truth. It wasn't Newt's fault. It simply wasn't.

"He trusted me to take care of him. I betrayed him. I-"

"Newt." Theseus said. Fingers gripping Newt's chin. Tilting his head until their eyes met. "It wasn't. Your fault." He told him. Heartfelt sincerity in his eyes as Newt's lip trembled. Features twisting into this pitifully remorseful expression. Opening his arms to Theseus, who instantly filled them. 

It was then that a barrage of intense knocks pounded against the door. Causing both to turn, eyes wide as their father stepped through the door.

"Newton Scamander, that is the last time you will interrupt one of our dinner parties with your hapless shenanigans. Do you understand me, boy?!" He shouted. As if Theseus wasn't even there. Looking straight through the elder, into Newt, who shrunk down in the tub. One hand curling around Theseus' shoulder as he attempted to hide behind him.

"By Merlin, Newt you have every opportunity. Every opportunity in the world, and this, these...insignificant creatures? This is what you choose to spend your time doing? I admit when you were younger, it might have been charming, but now -- this has gone too far. Do you understand me? I'll not raise a son like--"

"Like what, Father?" Theseus questioned, rising slowly to his feet until their eyes were even. Having seemed to startle the man, who looked at him bewildered. As if he had apparated just now, and not that he'd been there the whole time. "Finish that sentence." Theseus dared, stepping toward him. Just a touch taller than the man, as he had outgrown him in recent years. Subtly peering down at him, as his mouth hung open. Thinking of what to say.

"Theseus get out of the way. I'm talking to Newt."

"No, No, you're yelling at Newt. Your son, who came limping in from the woods, covered in mud and bleeding. Did you even ask what happened?" Theseus snapped back. Following as their Father took a step back. Startled by this sudden rebellious persona coming from Theseus. The, normally, obedient son.

"It's the principal of the matter Theseus. I don't think you seem to understand-"

"No, I understand perfectly." He growled, backing the man into the hall, "If you ever have the thought in your head to yell at Newt again, I'd advise you wipe it from your head. Because you won't like what will happen if you do it again."

After a moment or two of aggressive, unwavering eye contact, the man straightened himself out, expression relaxing into its natural pompous sneer, and walked away. Unfazed as Theseus slammed the door. Returning to Newt who stared up at him in awe. No one had ever stood up to their father before. No one. Not his underlings at work, nor his superiors. And certainly not Theseus. 

The only difference, was that he'd never yelled at Newt in such a way before. 

"I'm sorry." Newt whispered, pulling his knees up into his chest as his older brother knelt beside him.

"What are you sorry for luv?" Theseus questioned, gentle hand brushing through his hair. Now somewhat damp from the Steam Enough so that he could slick it back, out of his face.

"You were arguing because of me." He murmured. To which Theseus shook his head and shifted closer.

"No, Newt, we argued because he's a terrible father. You did nothing wrong." Theseus told him. Stroking his cheek and smiling smally at the way Newt glanced at him skittishly. As if suspicious that Theseus was lying to him. Just trying to make him feel better.

"You never do."

  
  


*

  
  


"Avada Kedavra!" He'd said. Carelessly calm about the murderous spell he had just cast. Fighting tooth and nail to take it back. To jerk his hand and redirect it. To drop his wand, or fall to his knees, or crumble to the floor. Anything to stop himself. Unable to regain control over his body, no matter how hard he tried. A thought which made him sick to his stomach, because now he understood what Theseus must have gone through. When Grindelwald had taken control over him. Though Theseus had been stronger. Newt could remember seeing the hesitance in his eyes, the occasional pauses. He fought it. Or at least, he had tried. And now, he was going to kill him. All because of his own childish weakness. His idiocy. Why had he ever trusted Grindelwald, who he once thought to be Dumbledore? What utter stupidity had blinded him? To trust a stranger over his own flesh and blood. And now he'd never be able to tell him, how incredibly sorry he was, for bringing this upon the both of them. For forcing Theseus to rescue him. To risk life and limb to save him because that's what Theseus  _ did _ . Because in less than a heartbeat, he'd be dead.

"Newt!" A voice cried, causing this demon, this thing that was possessing him, to glance in the direction of the intruder. Tackled, at the very same moment that Theseus sidestepped and deflected his spell. 

_ Thank Merlin _ he thought, confused as he landed on a soft figure. A man...Percival...Graves? But, Theseus was disguised as Percival Graves, and he had just tried to kill Theseus. Before he had time to process it, two hands held him firmly in place.

"Accio." The Graves down the hall said, retrieving Newt's wand as the boy struggled in the arms of the other Percival Graves. Unsure now, which was which, until he was brought to his feet. Kicking and fighting all the while, quite a bit bigger than he was in previous years, therefore they could barely manage to contain him.

"Newt…" The one holding him tried, "Calm down, luv."

_ Theseus _ he knew. Silently begging for them to reverse this horrible curse of obedience. Of separation from mind and body. Screaming at his brother, attempting to warn him, as his body relaxed.

_ It's a trap! _ He tried, knowing this shell of himself far better than he wanted to. Watching through eyes he couldn't control as they both watched him cautiously. Exchanging glances as he stood rigid. As if turned to stone at his command.

"Erm...Newt?" Theseus asked, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch his face. Sighing deeply with relief at the somehow, puzzled expression that relaxed against his hand. Designed to seem as though Newt was breaking through. They had no way of knowing, he wasn't. It was all just a game. 

"Oh, Newt." Theseus murmured, pulling him into a hug. Far too brash and trusting, as was his nature when it came to Newt, warned softly by Percival to step back, but he didn't listen. Far too happy to have found his brother as safe and sound as he could have hoped to be. Preoccupied with the thought of their reunion. So much so, that he didn't feel Newt's nimble hands reach into his pocket. Retrieving his wand and aiming at the man's abdomen.

"Incendio." Newt growled, shoving Theseus away from him, small smile curling on his lips as his brother's coat burst into flames. Turning quickly to Percival, who was too shocked at first, to react.

"Accio!" He said. Taking both his wand, and Percival's. Apparating before either had the chance to stop him. 

"Damn it!" Theseus shouted, shucking off his coat and throwing it down the hall away from them. Patting himself down and turning to Percival who stood dumbfounded. Wandless. They both were.

"Damn it." He repeated, breathing loudly as he shook his head and rested his hands on his knees.

"We have to find him." Percival said. Approaching Theseus who scoffed, as if he has just suggested they raid the Ministry with nothing more than a can-do attitude.

"And if we do? He has our wands." Theseus barked, taking out his rage and pain on Percival who silently took it. Waiting for his friend to collect himself. To sift through all the emotions bubbling inside him. Well accustomed to sorrow manifesting itself as anger.

"Theseus we've been in a war for the past three years..."

"Yes, we have. But the difference is, Percival, that the Germans didn't have wands. And neither did we. It was an even playing field."

"True. But we have something they don't."

"Oh, really?" Theseus questioned. Standing up straight to face Percival, who had a sheepish grin on his face. As if trying to build up the suspense as he eyed his impatient friend. Reaching into his inner coat pocket and retrieving two wands.

"The element of surprise." Percival told him, wagging the wands at Theseus who breathed a deep sigh of relief. Snagging one from his fingertips and tucking it into his pocket.

"You brought them?" Theseus asked, referring to, of course, the wands they had collected over the years from German wizards. In an attempt to keep the secrets of the wizarding world safe.

"Of course I did. What was I supposed to do? Leave them behind for a no-maj to get their hands on?"

Theseus rolled his eyes and turned down the hall. "You should have led with that." He muttered, Gesturing for Percival to follow as they made their way toward Professor McGonagall's office. They'd need her for this. 

For the war to come.

  
  


*

  
  


Grindelwald paced slowly. Glancing occasionally at the clock above the door. Anxious for Newt's return. Even if he failed to kill Theseus, the message would surely stick. There'd be no "saving" Newt, as he was certain Theseus was trying to do, without first consulting him. He could already imagine the boy pleading. Begging on his knees for the man to relinquish his grip on Newt. And if he was dead, even better. Then he wouldn't constantly be getting in the way. Gellert could then remove the spell from Newt, obliviate him, and forge a letter saying Theseus had died in battle. He couldn't lose. Either Theseus was dead, or would, with no other choice, join him. 

Newt was impervious to harm, he knew. Metaphorically at least. Theseus would never hurt him. He knew that. He'd been watching them for some time now. Either in person, from afar, or through his minions, who had befriended their parents. Without those constant little dinner parties, he might never have known just how  _ much _ Theseus cared about little Newt. He'd no doubt blame Grindelwald and the facade he had maintained for a surprisingly long time, for anything Newt did. He could only imagine the stupefied look on the boy's face when he discovered it had been Gellert all along. If, he discovered, that is. Not that Theseus had ever been fond of Dumbledore, In fact, from what he ascertained, he hated the man. Something they had in common. How delightful. If he were to have them both. Two sides of the same coin. One that hates Albus as much as he does, and the other, that adores him. 

When Newt apparated before him, he was almost too deep in thought to acknowledge the boy who stood at attention, fist extended with two wands clutched in his palm.

"Ah, you've returned my sweet." Grindelwald chimed, turning to him, a bit perplexed at first, then grinning at what had obviously transpired.

"So there  _ are _ two of them." He observed, a small chuckle escaping him once receiving a small nod from Newt.

"And these are their wands?"

Newt nodded again.

"Good boy!" Gellert leered, unable to contain his delight as he snagged the wands, pocketed them, and cupped Newt's face. Peering down into glazed green eyes, that didn't fight him. Lovely. This spell was stronger. Too strong, evidently, for Newt to free himself from. Good. He'd hate to be the bad guy and tie him up again. It always was a hassle.

"Did you manage to kill either of them?" He questioned, releasing the boy and tilting his head at the brief hesitation that followed.

"No, sir." He said quietly. Gaze cast to the ground, stiffening as if expecting to be punished.

"A pity. Well they won't pose much of a threat, so long as they remain wandless. You've done well, lamb." He murmured, brushing his hair back thoughtfully until Newt met his gaze. Smile fading quickly as he turned and walked toward his desk. "Now. I've got another task for you. Professor Holbrook has already notified the Ministry of an intrusion at Hogwarts. If your brother and his friend join us, I'll let her take the fall. She's just about outlived her usefulness anyway. If they don't however, they can spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban. You, my love, on the other hand, have no such choice. Therefore, as a consolation, I've decided to give you one of a...lesser importance."

He glanced up to find Newt staring back at him. Then gesturing for the boy to sit, which he did after a moment. Waiting patiently for the man to speak. Unfazed by the several minutes of silence that ensued as Gellert studied him cryptically. As if trying to solve a riddle written across his face.

"I simply can't decide what colour vest to wear." He stated, gesturing down to his entirely black suit. 

Newt blinked. As if irritated. As if shocked. As if infuriated. But his expression remained blank, and he simply nodded.

"Now, which looks better, do you think? Blue? Or green?"

He then proceeded to transfigure his vest between each colour. Waiting for Newt to lean in favour of one or the other. Secretly torturing the real Newt, who boiled within this shell of himself. Seething with a rage he'd never felt before. Not only had Gellert lied to him, and betrayed him, and manipulated him. He'd taken control of his body, and he'd made him attempt, to kill his own brother. He had ruined Newt's life in the span of mere years, twisting him and bending him every which way and now...now, he wanted him to pick, between  _ vest colours _ ?

Newt was a pacifist, through and through. He had never wanted to hurt or kill a single living thing. It was his objective to protect all forms of life. Even monsters, like Grindelwald. He had a habit of saving things. Keeping them safe and secure. Preventing them from pain.

However he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, when Theseus, or Percival, or any number of wizards or witches came to claim his head, Newt would do nothing.

But stand by, and watch.

  
  


*

  
  


"Theseus, we can't just storm Albus Dumbledore's office. There are rules, you know." Minerva challenged, yanking the boy to a halt, who for a moment flashed her a murderous glare. That bastard had his brother. And she wanted to talk about  _ rules _ ?

"Are you going to help us, or not." Theseus muttered. Far beyond the point of argument, or pleading, or convincing. He would walk into Dumbledore's office and kill him with his bare hands if that's what it took. With, or without her help. With, or without Percival, if that's what it took. But he wasn't going to wait for the propriety of rules, to pardon him from his damnable deeds. 

"Theseus…" She began, instinct to reprimand his aggressive nature and tone of voice, though given the circumstances, and the seriousness of the situation, she reluctantly complied. "Alright." She murmured, walking quickly behind the two as they raced down the halls. Footsteps echoing loudly throughout the enormous corridors and high ceilings. Slowing, however, once reaching Albus' office. So not as to give away their position. Allowing Minerva to take the lead as she hesitantly pushed open both doors. Revealing an anticlimactically bland scene. There Albus sat, at his desk, across from Newt, who seemed to be working diligently on a paper of some kind. Causing each of them to pause for a moment. Having expected the man to be prepared for a fight...not...helping Newt with his homework.

"Professor McGonagall." He said, peering up for a moment at the trio. Removing his spectacles and rising slowly to his feet. Patting Newt's shoulder, as he rounded the desk and met them halfway across the room. "What can I do for you?"

There was a long silence. One in which none of them knew how to respond. Taken aback by the calm nature of both Albus, and Newt, who had tried to kill them only minutes prior.

"Is that...is that, Theseus Scamander?" Albus then questioned, pursing his lips and leaning toward the boy, seemingly to examine him, "I trust both you and Mr. Graves have come to turn him in. He is a fugitive, you know." He said matter-of-factly.

Again, he was met by a stunned silence. Watching the three as they exchanged glances.

"No." Percival finally said, stepping closer to the man who seemed surprised. As if he couldn't fathom why Mr. Graves had such an aggressive demeanor.

"No?" He questioned, glancing at Minerva, who cleared her throat. Rolling her shoulders back.

"No." She repeated, stern, disciplinary tone in her voice prompting a small smile to tickle the corner of Albus' mouth.

"What a pity." He murmured, turning his back on them and wandering slowly toward his desk. Nodding to Newt, who stood and awaited orders.

"Contain them." He said casually. Grinning now as Minerva retrieved her wand. Gazing worriedly at Newt, who merely stared with empty eyes. Waiting for him to make a move. Praying, he wouldn't. She had no doubt that her skill surpassed his own, though she had no desire to hurt him. Far too focused on the younger Scamander, to notice Alydia, who stepped from beyond one of the many book cases.

"Petrificus Totalus!" She shouted, wicked gleam in her eyes as she flicked her wand at the woman, who was too slow to react. Fortunately, Percival was far quicker in his assessment of the situation, stepping forward, beside Minerva as he countered, "Protego." He said, both watching as the spell rebounded back to the woman. Binding and stunning her, as she crumpled to the floor.

At this, Albus glared down angrily at Newt. "I thought you took their wands." He muttered, retrieving his own and lifting Percival into the air. Tossing him against one of the bookshelves.

"Rennervate." He growled, aiding Holbrook, who quickly rose to her feet.

"I'll handle her." McGonagall said. Nodding to Theseus, who rushed to Percival's side. Lifting him up and standing beside him. Both now facing off against Albus, who grinned, as if they were small children, imitating their betters.

"Sectumsempra!" Theseus tried, casting his spell with such force that it almost surprised Albus, who nodded in approval, before deflecting it and rebutting.

"Accio." He said simply. Summoning forth one of the tables by the door, which knocked both wizards to the ground. Each retrieving their wands and recovering quickly. Standing, only to dodge once more, as the table was thrown towards the door.

"Stupify!" Percival tried, effortlessly deflected by Albus, who shook his head and flicked his wand lazily. 

"Incendio." He countered. Watching in amusement as Theseus attempted to put out the flames which consumed his friend. Glancing absently toward McGonagall and Holbrook, who were a near perfect match for one another. Turning his attention back to the inexperienced pair who were far too emotionally driven to best him.

Hex after hex, spell after spell. A side step here, a deflection there. It was almost becoming boring. Knocking them to the ground, waiting for them to pick themselves back up. He didn't want to kill them, which he easily could have done. He wanted to convert them. And if he had to exhaust them first, so be it. So long as Holbrook managed to keep McGonagall occupied, he had all the time in the world. Not that he couldn't take the three of them. Hell, even the four of them if Alydia switched sides. He hadn't a single doubt in his abilities. Careless and bored as they "fought" or at least, what he could only assume was their closest approximation to fighting. Though, he soon found that he had been too bored. And too careless. Pausing abruptly as an ear piercing scream rattled the room.

"Crucio!" Percival had said. Attempting to harm the man who had unintentionally deflected the spell into Newt, who crumpled to the ground. Seething with pain. For a moment, the room stood still. Everyone too shocked to move as Newt cried helplessly. Whining loudly as Grindelwald approached him quickly. Brows furrowed in an expression that somewhat resembled sympathy, but Newt wasn't so stupid as to fall for that now. Kneeling beside the boy who clawed at his skin, as if it were a foreign invader that had latched onto his body. Using one hand to throw both men against the adjacent wall as they attempted to approach, Grindelwald examined Newt carefully.

"Crucius Protego." He said, soothing the pain that quickly died down. Watching intently as the desperation and fear in Newt's eyes faded. Studying his twisted features, which perspired ever so slightly. Waiting for Newt to return to him. At least, whatever version he had created. Completely unaware of his surroundings. Nor the three wands now pointed at him, as Alydia lay unconscious on the floor.

"That's not Dumbledore's wand." Minerva murmured, glancing to Percival who furrowed his brows, unsure what she could have meant by that. Turning to Theseus who was already two steps ahead of him.

"Revelio!" He shouted.

All watching in both horror and utter disbelief as red hair melted into white. Tan skin shifting into a pale, milky complexion.

"Grindelwald…" Theseus murmured, wand lowering slowly as the man peered over his shoulder. Snarling at the trio. Each hand moving up on either side of Theseus. Entangling both Percival and Minerva in web-like constructs which restrained them.

"You monster!" Theseus barked, now fighting not only for Newt, but the hundreds of slain wizards who had died in the name of Gellert Grindelwald, and his political movement that had long since been the talk of the wizarding world. That which, he had unknowing dragged Newt into, as well as himself and Percival. Slinging spell after spell at the man who blocked them all without even breaking a sweat.

"Oh I'm the monster?" He inquired, approaching swiftly, backing Theseus into a wall as he attempted fruitlessly to stop the man. Even daring to throw a punch as Gellert closed in, grabbing his wand and narrowing his eyes at the boy, "Those who live in glass houses, shouldn't throw stones." He growled. Casting the very same spell he had cast on Newt. The one that made him remember what Theseus had done. Backing away slowly as the older Scamander's eyes glazed over. Falling slowly to his knees. Tears brimming as his mouth gaped open in horror.

_ No….no….no _

_ Not Newt… _

_ I didn't...I couldn't have… _

_ "Theseus stop!" He had cried. _

_ "Please! No…" He'd  _ **_begged_ ** _. _

_ And I just...kept...going... _

_ What have I done. _

*

The only way to break an all powerful spell, is to overpower it, with another. 

"Rennervate!" Newt said, releasing both Minerva and Percival from their bonds. Shying, from the murderous glare Gellert gave him. Stomping toward him angrily as he scrambled back against the desk. Saved, momentarily by both McGonagall and Graves, who managed to stun the man long enough for him to crawl desperately toward Theseus. Kneeling in front of his brother, who looked utterly mortified. No, beyond that. He was devastated. Trembling in the revelation of what he had done. Staring wide eyed at the ground. Startled by Newt, whose hands fell on either of his shoulders.

"Oh, Newt…" came his breathy whisper. Regret and pain and sincerity in his voice as he tried desperately to make sense of what he had seen.

"It wasn't your fault." Newt told him. Not giving him the chance to formulate an apology. Taking hold of Theseus' hands. Commanding his attention.

"H-how can you say that? I-I…"

"It wasn't your fault." He repeated, grip firming. Gently jostling his brother's hands. Urging him to look into Newt's eyes. To know that he was telling him the truth. It wasn't Theseus' fault. It simply wasn't.

"I-I should have fought...or-or...resisted..." He whispered. Refusing to meet Newt's gaze.

"It wasn't your fault."

"You trusted me to take care of you. I betrayed you. I-"

"Theseus." Newt said. Fingers gripping his brother's chin. Tilting his head until their eyes met. "It wasn't. Your fault." He told him. Heartfelt sincerity in his eyes as Theseus' lip quivered. Features twisting into this pitifully remorseful expression. Opening his arms to Theseus, who instantly filled them. 

It was then, that Grindelwald broke free from Percival's and Minerva's enchantments. Roaring furiously as he threw both against either wall. Then turning to the Scamander brothers, who each gazed at him wide-eyed.

"Theseus Scamander, this is the last time you will stand in my way. You've far surpassed your amusement as a minor nuisance. Now you will either join me, or you can rot in Azkaban!" He shouted. As if Newt wasn't even there. Looking straight through the younger, into Theseus, who remained frozen where he was. One hand curling protectively around Newt's shoulder, fearful of whatever came next.

"I've expended too much time, too much effort, for it all to be ruined, by some blithering buffoon and his lackeys." He added, gesturing to both McGonagall and Graves, who struggled to recover. "Make your choice." Aiming his wand at Theseus, dark gaze spelling out an impending doom.

"Choice?" Newt questioned, rising slowly to his feet until their eyes were even. Having seemed to startle the man, who looked at him bewildered. As if he had apparated just now, and not that he'd been there the whole time. "What do you know of choice?" Newt dared, stepping toward him. Just a touch smaller than the man, who tilted his head downward to examine him. Subtly lowering his wand, as his mouth hung open. Thinking of what to say.

"Newt, get out of the way." He ordered. Shifting from foot to foot. Breathing deeply as the boy stared him down.

"No." He whispered, astonishing even himself as he drew his wand. Pointing it at Grindelwald, who hesitated to reciprocate the gesture.

"Newt, luv, stand down." He commanded. Taking a small step back, away from the boy, who slowly trekked forward. Flanked by his newfound allies. Not that they stood any chance against him. 

"No." He said again, louder this time. Almost tempted to laugh or to smile at the prospect that he was saying  _ no _ . All he'd ever wanted to say, was  _ no _ . And now that he could, he felt as though any power Albus, or Gellert, or whoever they were, had over him ...was gone.

Not a moment later, and suddenly the room was chock full of Aurors. Each taking a moment to assess the situation, before apprehending Grindelwald, who did little to stop them. Far to focused on his failed protege to care, or even notice, really.

"Newton…" He growled out. Attempting to intimidate him. To herd him into submission like he'd done a thousand times before. Eyes very nearly pleading at the boy who wouldn't bow down any longer. 

A new tactic then, he supposed. Startling the four heroes, as well as everyone around them, with a bought of uncontrollable laughter. Smiling wickedly at Newt, who for a moment, showed fear. Some remnant of his time with the man. Shivering as the Aurors lifted Gellert to his feet. 

"Oh, Dear little Newt." His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, causing the boy to shrink just the smallest bit. Though enough for Grindelwald to observe, "It appears you have your mind back." He cackled once more, like a madman. A side of him that Newt was glad to have never seen, "Or do you?"

His words made something catch up in Newt's throat. Fear. Apprehension. Guilt. Uncertainty. He was free...wasn't he? And if he was...why did he still feel phantom shackles, weighing him to the floor. Had Grindelwald won under the guise that he had lost? Was it over? Was it  _ finally _ over? And if it was…

Why did feel as though it had only just begun?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II coming soon, maybe. We'll see. Anyway, thanks for reading. And the kudos. It's been a wild ride. 
> 
> Peace ✌

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm demented. Comes with the territory. Thanks for reading, and for the kudos, if you gave them. If not, there's always more fish. (And that's not a metaphor. That's a statement. I mean there are literally billions of fish in the ocean, if you think about it it's kind of scary, that like for every one human, there's about a hundred fish. Just when you think you've run out...there's more)
> 
> Be wary friends.


End file.
